Mirror Image
by HigherMagic
Summary: Demons lie. Everyone knows that. But Angels? Angels manipulate, and they don't care who gets caught in the cross-fire. Sam makes a Deal with Gabriel, and the consequences are worse than anyone could have imagined. M for Language & Lemons. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Mirror Image**

**WARNING: Major Spoilers for Season Five. If you haven't watched into the…eight episode or so I wouldn't recommend reading this story yet.**

**SUMMARY: He had to make this deal; it could save him, save his brother, save the entire world from the Apocalypse. Hey, desperate times, right? But problem is, he's woken up with no memories, not knowing if he succeeded or not and not knowing the consequences of his failure. With help from his brother Sam Winchester must start out on the most important Hunt of his life: after all, it's only the fate of Heaven, Hell and all life in between that rests on his shoulders.**

**So, you know, no pressure.  
**

**RATING: Future MA.**

**PAIRINGS: Dean/Castiel and Sam/Gabriel. Possibly some Sam/Dean to start with.**

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**Prologue**

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**

_Sam…oh God Sam what have you done now…?_

_The eldest and last remaining Winchester knelt over his brother's broken body in a pose that was horribly familiar for the older Hunter accompanying him. Bobby's face was pale; his cheeks flushed red and stained with teary streaks as he looked away from the sight. This wasn't right; the brothers had been separated far too much and now this._

"_Dean. Dean come on it's time to go."_

"_Bobby, I can't."_

_Dean couldn't just let his brother go like this; torn, bloody on the ground after being ripped apart by Hell Hounds, just as Dean had been. He couldn't._

_--_

"_You eejit!"_

_Bobby wanted to scream, hoping beyond hope that the torn and bloody soul of Samuel Winchester would be able to hear him, even neck-deep in the pit. He was silenced only by sleep as it took the older hunter, lulling Bobby into fitful nightmares, knowledge of what one of the boys he considered a son had suffered, and what the other was now having to go through._

_And all for the sake of something they didn't know._

_--_

"**Dean, I need to talk to you." Dean pushed the angel he had been close to calling 'friend' away, his eyes as black as the demons he hunted.**

"**You allowed my brother to get tossed into Hell, you spineless, soulless son of a bitch! How can I ever forgive you? You knew this was coming, didn't you?"**

"**It was not Hell Hounds that tore your brother apart."**

**That gave the last surviving Winchester pause. "What?"**

"**It was a different kind of animal; golden eagles. They work as part of Heaven's…cavalry, if you will. They went after your brother when he struck his deal."**

**--**

"No!"

The man's upper body jack-knifed upwards as he heaved in a breath. Or tried to, only to find his breathing blocked by a hollow plastic tube that, until then, had been keeping his body alive artificially. With a ferocity born of terror he tore the long respirator tube out of his airway and heaved in a deep breath once it was free. Around him machines beeped in alarm, the cardiograph going insane as his heart rate snapped into overdrive, powering adrenaline through his system as he tried to take in his surroundings.

His eyes didn't miss a thing; sliding glass doors lined one side of the room. Along the other was a large window, half-open to let in the sounds of rush hour traffic and the soft scent of laundry. The warm summer breeze wafted through the partial crack in the glass that lined the upper corner and he took in a deep breath. He figured he was on the third story from the height of the trees outside.

He tried to search for something familiar, something that would tell him anything about why he was here, but he came to naught. Along the hard bed he slept in there were plastic rails – typical of a hospital. An IV tucked into the crook of his elbow in his left arm fed him fluids that would keep his body nourished. A dull throbbing in his lower region let him know he was also attached to a catheter.

Slowly, very slowly his heart rate began to calm as he realized he was in no immediate danger. Drained from the sudden rush of terror and adrenaline the man sat back against his scratchy hospital pillows, his eyes closing as he heaved a deep breath.

--

"**Why? Why would Sammy make a deal?" Gone was the righteous anger for his brother's sake; what would possess Sam to strike a deal with demons, right as the first wave of the Apocalypse began to hit them?**

"**For the sake of yourself. He has worked to save you."**

"**I don't need saving!"**

"**I mean in the first place. You brought the Apocalypse on, Dean. You destroyed the world and your brother placed the final nail in its coffin. He wanted to help you, so he made a deal."**

"**With a demon! Why would they make a deal with him now? The stupid, stupid son of a bitch!"**

"**Not with a demon. With an Archangel."**

--

_Flesh._

_Bone._

_His skin, being flayed off his body in such deep, cruel strokes he had to wonder his guts didn't spill out with every single one. The rack cranked another spoke and his body stretched, pulling sockets from themselves and he screamed loud and long, his voice joining the chorus of other tortured, damned souls._

_The demon holding the brutal cat-of-nine-tails, made crueler by the fire that singed along it with every movement, magnesium igniting with oxygen, laughed and tossed her blonde mane of hair back. She stepped more closely to his beaten and bruised almost-corpse, her malevolent smirk of triumph increasing as another demon stepped forward with a scalpel and a butcher's knife._

"_Come on, break. No one's waiting for you up there. All it takes is a kiss, lover."_

_It took all his effort, but he managed to swing his head around to look at her. His tongue had long ago been removed with a pair of red-hot tongs, blood dripped from his lips that had been sliced open and his mouth that was currently trying to rid his body of as much blood as possible._

_She puckered up, prepared for him to break. He merely spit a mouthful of blood into her face and laughed. The laugh turned into another scream as the knife in his gut twisted._

"_I'll make you pay for that, Winchester."_

_--_

Another nightmare brought him back from his sleep. That and the voices.

"How did his respirator get removed?"

"I don't know. I didn't hear anything about him waking up."

The John Doe pushed himself upwards again, and it didn't take much effort to get his eyes to open; he had a feeling he wouldn't be dreaming very much anyway. He cast his dark eyes over to the two people – one wearing a doctor's coat and the other wearing light green scrubs – watching him with the wariness of someone confronting a psyche patient or a frightened animal; unsure of how they will react.

"I woke up earlier, but I was tired and went back to sleep." His voice was low, raw, and thick with tears he hadn't realized he had begun to shed. The doctor stepped forward, placing a hand next to his on the bed and he shied away from her. She looked too much like that demon with the whip; blonde hair and bright green eyes and a beautiful smile. He hated her already.

"Sir, you were the victim of a freak car accident; you suffered severe trauma due to several lacerations – cuts – along your chest and abdomen. You could have also suffered brain damage. Can you tell me your name?"

"Winchester," he replied automatically.

--

"**Castiel, you're going in circles."**

"**Trust me, Dean. I'm not allowed to tell you about the Deal otherwise it breaks; only if your brother remembers it can you ever know."**

"**What are you, allergic to straight answers? Why can't you tell me?"**

"**Telling you anything will hurl you both into Damnation, and no one would be able to pull you out again. Let well enough alone, Dean, and find your brother."**

**--**

The woman nodded lightly, pursing her lips as she wrote down the word on a clipboard she held. "Does that come with a first name?"

The man frowned, cocking his head slightly to one side as though she was suddenly speaking a language he didn't understand. Of course…he had to have a first name…surely…

Fact of the matter was, if that demon hadn't told him what his last name was, he never would have known that. He could remember a lot of things; he knew that lining a room with salt could repel ghosts and demons; he knew that the only real sure-fire way to kill a vampire was to cut off its head; he knew that Pagan Gods could be real sons of a bitches and he knew that regular people did not know this, and relied on him to take care of the things that went bump in the night.

He knew he drove a '67 Chevy impala, and he knew he was an orphan. He also knew that there were a lot of things he didn't remember.

But he couldn't remember what he couldn't remember, except his name.

The man merely shook his head. "Just Winchester."

"Alright…Winchester…do you have any next of kin we can contact?"

Again the man glared at her, hating how she was so…doctor-y about everything. Couldn't she give him five minutes to himself? Guess not; after all he should have taken that opportunity to be alone when he first woke up.

"No. How did I get here?"

"Someone saw the accident; they called an ambulance and the paramedics brought you in. But by the time the paramedics came those people were gone and so was the person who hit you. The police are looking into it but from what I've heard there's not much hope finding the man who hit you."

"I don't care about that." And he didn't. He knew what had happened to him and it sure as hell wasn't a damned car accident. It had been Hell Hounds. Hell Hounds for a deal, a deal he'd made. A deal he'd made for…what? What would have caused him to sell his soul?

--

_It wasn't long after his meeting with Gabriel that the birds came._

_They were beautiful; golden feathers covered completely a thirty-foot wingspan, bright beacons of pure radiance shining from between the sharp, pointed beaks that opened and closed in silence but managed to let loose an ear-splitting shriek into the youngest Winchester's ears. Sam knelt to the ground, his hands covering his ears. But they were no match for the amount of blood running between his fingers, coating his palms and the backs of his hands in a light, beautiful sheen of crimson._

_They claws were just as sharp as their beaks and both tore into Sam's back and chest. To his credit Sam didn't scream from the pain; there wasn't really any pain. Not anymore; not that he realized at least his death had been given a purpose now._

_Watching it all, Gabriel smiled and pulled a lollipop from a pocket in his jeans, the colour matching the pool of blood beginning to stain the floor as his birds did their duty and Sam's soul was thrust into the Pit._

--

"**Where is my brother, if not dead?"**

"**I brought him in, and made sure the humans would keep his body alive artificially until he woke up and when he did that a man named ****Hector Aframian**** was to be contacted."**

**Dean couldn't help smile at Castiel's use of one of his aliases, that and from sheer joy that his brother might be alive and well, breathing and still in the world. A weight he hadn't even been aware of until then seemed to lift off of his shoulders. "He's alive? Sammy's alive?"**

"**If he has succeeded in his task, then yes, he should be awake by now."**

"**Then what the hell are we waiting for? Flap your wings, do your teleportation mojo. Come on, we have to get to him."**

"**Dean, I have to warn you –."**

"**There's no time, Cas. Please, take me to my brother. I have to see it with my own eyes."**

**--**

_Remember, Samuel Winchester. Remember your task._

_Remember your Deal.  
_

_For the sake of the World, remember the tribute.

* * *

_

_To be destroyed  
You must seek destruction.  
Find the one called Friend.  
Brother. Protector.  
Guardian.  
His life will be claimed  
As payment for the world.  
One brother must die by  
the hand of he who  
started it all.  
Savior. Sword.  
Unite as one.  
Destroy the servant  
who, in another life,  
Disobeyed.

* * *

_

**Author's Note: **This was the Prologue; some more things will be explained later on as the story progresses. This was another idea that just wouldn't go away until I wrote it down, so hopefully it will end up going somewhere.

Much Loves.

HigherMagic x


	2. Chapter 2

**Mirror Image**

**WARNING: Major Spoilers for Season Five. **

**DISCLAIMER: I realize I should have put one up before; I do not own Supernatural. If I did I would make the boys do stuff to each other ;] I also do not own Snickers or any Mars products, although now I'm absolutely dying for one.**

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**The Deal**

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**

_It took months to hunt down the Trickster. Dean didn't know where he was, wasn't on Sam's trail. At least, that's what the younger Winchester deluded himself into thinking; truth was, he knew Dean was following right behind him, sniffing out his scent like a bloodhound on a Hunt. Sam just had to stay a few steps ahead of him, until he found his mark._

_But damn it all if it didn't seem like the 'Trickster' – Sam had to correct himself, remembering it was actually the Archangel Gabriel he was going to see – knew he was trying to follow him, and was doing everything in his power to stay out of Sam's way._

_Finally Sam had grown desperate, and his pleas for help filled the starry Oregon night;_

"_Gabriel! I know you can hear me!" He'd been shouting at the sky for almost three hours now, screaming himself hoarse as he tried to reach through whatever lengths of empty space he had to reach to get the Heaven. Who knows; maybe sound can't travel that far. "Please!" Desperation and hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him; the man that had singlehandedly brought about the destruction of the world. Not once since finding out the truth did he pin the Apocalypse on Dean; Dean hadn't known that breaking in Hell would start the whole damned chain of events._

_Not even the satisfaction of killing Lilith and the demon bitch Ruby made him feel warm. He was so cold, the desire for demon blood never once fading from his mind. War's words repeated like a loop in his head; _'You're my poster boy...can't stop thinking about it...humans don't need a reason to kill each other...'

_We're such violent animals… And with that thought Sam dropped to his knees, unable to stand the sight of the open sky any longer, knowing that nothing was coming to fill that empty space. Even the stars seemed to have stopped listening after the first few minutes of his cries._

"_I must say, Sammy Boy, you do look fantastic on your knees."_

_In the same motion Sam was around and to his feet, instinct demanding he draw the knife Ruby had given him; he'd been unable to let it go, despite the fact that it only brought back…memories. Wants he needed to crush before they overwhelmed him. Maybe that's why he did keep it; give him a reminder of his failures and Sam Winchester would fight until the end._

_There he stood; light coloured hair seemingly glowing in the dark night, a plain janitor's uniform on – must be a nostalgic person – and a very clear superior, triumphant smirk on his face._

_After all, not many could say they brought Sam Winchester to his knees._

_Too bad he had yet to accomplish the same thing with Dean._

Patience…

"_You know why I called you here."_

"_Yes," Gabriel replied, slurring the word with a patronizing tone that had Sam's fingers clenching reflexively tighter on his knife. The Archangel scratched behind his vessel's ear, putting on a look of pure disinterest, though in reality if he were a more emotionally healthy person his heart would be pounding with the adrenaline of a near-kill. "I've been listening for quite some time; you have a lot of stamina when it comes to Angels, it seems."_

_The human shifted his weight onto his other foot, clearly caught off guard by Gabriel's continued innuendoes and innocuous comments that could easily be taken the other way._

"_You know what I want."_

"_Yes, I do." Gabriel nodded, smiled in a way that could only really be called predatory and stepped forward, easily closing the distance between the two of them. To his credit, Sam didn't back down, but the Archangel could definitely see fear, wariness in the young man's eyes, accompanied with that strong-willed hardheadedness that must be a genetic trait in Winchesters. "You want to make a deal. What's in it for me?"_

"_You told me you wanted me and Dean to play our roles," Sam said, his words molding together just a little, as though he was trying to say everything at once, make his conditions known. The smile hadn't left Gabriel's face at it was definitely unsettling the younger male. "If I fail, then I'll say 'Yes' to Lucifer. Dean will have to agree to Michael as well and your brothers can fight it out, just like you wanted, right? You want all the fighting to be over. This way it will be."_

_Gabriel tilted his head to one side, studying Sam's face very closely. It seems as though I've underestimated you, Sammy Boy. I guess underneath those puppy dog eyes and that mop of hair there must be one hell of a brain. Of course, Gabriel knew Sam was smart; every aspect of the Deal he was proposing would not only have been incredibly thought out, but phrased to prevent any loopholes, any possible wiggle room for the former Trickster. But Gabriel was no naïve one either; he'd seen all the tricks, invented a few of them himself._

_He wasn't going to let Sam off easy, that much was evident._

_So instead, decision already made, the Archangel decided to have a little fun first; he might not be a sadistic being, but being on Earth this long, without any or little contact with his brethren tended to make one a little more…human, prone to whims and flights of fancy. He reached into the pocket of his Janitor's uniform and pulled out a Snickers bar. With a finesse of eating the damned things since they were invented he peeled back the wrapper and bit down, chewing thoughtfully as he began to circle the human, the look on his face much like that of a man weighing up a prize racehorse, looking for any possible flaws. The prolonged silence made Sam nervous, his frame shaking lightly and not just from the chill of the windy night._

"_So, do we have a Deal?" he finally snapped, after Gabriel made to begin his third circuit. The other man smiled widely, finishing off his candy bar and pushing the remained back into his pocket._

_Still wanting to make the human squirm, he stepped closer. "Do you know what it takes to make a deal with an Angel, Sam? Especially one as powerful as I am? Your brother got off easy, you know, just swearing his fealty to Castiel, God and the Angels. I prefer a much more…" He let his voice trail off, moving his eyes very deliberately up and down Sam's body before meeting his gaze once more. "I don't know…let's say 'Hands On' approach…"_

_If Sam was nervous before, he was shaking from the fear now, the insane fight or flight reaction that all prey animals had learned to develop._

_Unfortunately, he'd managed to convince himself that flight wasn't an option anymore._

"_I don't care. I'm willing to do whatever it takes," he said, his jaw locking and eyes hardening as he stared down the small height difference into the Archangel's vessel's eyes._

_Gabriel smirked. "My, my; self sacrifice really is the Winchester way, isn't it?" He didn't miss Sam's wince at quoting Lilith's words. "How do you think Dean will react when he knows you're selling your soul for him? For the world?"_

"_It won't matter. I won't be gone long."_

Do you hide behind the façade like your brother does, or are you genuinely that cocky?_ "Well…we'll have to see now, won't we?" Gabriel's smile widened again as he stepped forward, so close to Sam now that he could feel the body heat radiating off of the human's torso, hear his heartbeat going a hundred miles an hour, smell his fear and he could almost feel the faint thrumming of Sam's body, quivering with nerves and fear of the unknown, of what he was about to jump headfirst into._

_Hell didn't exactly come with a beginner's level._

"_There's a before and an after," Gabriel said, moving away before the poor boy began to hyperventilate. Sam's eyes followed his movements as he paced, with all the sharpness of a predator mixed with the wariness of prey. "Comes right from the Old Times; we've got to keep up with the red tape. A sacrifice, if you succeed, within forty days of being brought back. I will tell you before you go under who or what the sacrifice must be. If you forget it during your stay downstairs that is no fault of my own. If you fail to adhere to the sacrifice the conditions of the Deal are off completely; you will be thrown back into the Pit. Everything else shall go to the way it was this night, do you understand?" A look up, a nod of confirmation, and Gabriel was talking again; "First, however, our souls must come together."_

_That caught Sam by surprise. "What?"_

_Gabriel rolled his eyes. "I know, but cheesy as it sounds it's the truth. When bargaining with a Demon you sell your soul; with an Angel you must prove you have one, if that makes sense. The two of ours will have to come together to seal the deal." Gone was the devious, cocky nature of the Trickster. Before Sam now stood the Archangel Gabriel really was; serious and cold and completely without mercy; righteous and a warrior of God._

"_How…" Sam was embarrassed by how his voice shook. He cleared his throat and tried again. "How do we do that?"_

--

"**Sir! Sir, I can't let you through into the ICU until we have proof of your identity."**

**Dean stared the petite woman down; a pale-faced woman with jet black hair that fell in ringlets around her face. Under any other circumstances Dean would be trying to use the famous Winchester charm for her to bend the rules, but damn it all this was **_**his brother**_** on the line, and there was no way in hell some tiny nurse was going to stop him seeing his Sammy.**

**Besides, that whole proof of identity thing was complete bull.**

**Naturally, perhaps Dean **_**could**_** have worked a little harder on making his appearance…I don't know, **_**less **_**like an extra from the set of 'My Bloody Valentine'. When Castiel had found him, Dean had been **_**trying **_**to continue Hunting. Turns out he sucked ass without having his brother to back him up, even more so than when he'd had to be without his father. The loss of Sam and the knowledge that he was the last Winchester hit him and hit him hard. The poltergeist had managed to throw a steak knife into his shoulder and land a pretty harsh blow to his back before Dean could manage to salt and burn the damn thing, and when Castiel found him he hadn't given a thought to making himself presentable for the real world.**

**This was **_**his brother**_** they were talking about, even if he wouldn't be believed if he'd said it.**

"**Listen." Castiel stepped forward, his powerful voice easily drawing the attention of the woman; despite being for all intents and purposes a Fallen Angel, Castiel still commanded respect and power, a quiet strength about him that was both enthralling and nerve-wracking. "I am the one who brought him in, and I assure you my friend here is completely fine; never try painting with a shaky ladder." Dean's jaw almost dropped open at Castiel's attempt at humour, even as the woman smiled. Had the Angel just…**_**lied? **_**Told a **_**joke? **_

**What is the world coming to?**

**At once Dean remembered when he'd been sent five years into the future, had seen Castiel has a complete heathen, having sex and acquiring what Dean could only describe as a harem. He smirked.**

"**Alright, sir, I suppose I can clear the paperwork while you're in there. I'm afraid I will have to send someone in with you; Mister Winchester's physician, Doctor Albright, should be in there with him now."**

"**Thank you very much," Castiel replied, lips quirking up in that weird smile the Angel had taken to; not quite a full one, but definitely getting there, and he moved to the side to let Dean lead the way. The Hunter's shoulder was hurting like a bitch, probably still bleeding from the warmth he could feel running down his back, and he knew he'd have a bruise completely covering his spine later, but his priority was the brother he thought he'd lost, now he knew was still alive, and awake.**

--

_Ruby's knife stung a little as Gabriel took it from Sam, laying the blade across his chest, right below where the circular tattoo he and Dean had gotten lay on his chest, black against suddenly pale skin. The Archangel applied firm pressure, his gaze never once breaking from Sam's as the razor-edged blade sank into the skin right above his heart. The young Hunter barely seemed to notice it and that made Gabriel smirk. He lowered his eyes to watch the trail of blood, flowing and dripping with all the grace of a waterfall as the skin below the cut became red. Gabriel brought the knife up again, this time to his palm and sliced open his vessel's skin, but no blood flowed from the wound. Instead there was a soft pulse, a light much like Sam had seen when an Angel died, like Anna's Grace had looked like, the essence leaving the body, and he knew right then he was looking at a small part of Gabriel himself._

_He was about to purely touch an Archangel. His blood would mix with Gabriel's._

_The only warning he got was the sudden movement, and then there was nothing but blinding pain, crashing through his mind with enough force to send him to his knees. Gabriel followed him, dropping to one knee in front of the human. Try as he might, strong as he attempted to remain on the outside, there was no stopping Sam's quiet moan of pain, his next deep inhale bringing him the scent of burning flesh from where Gabriel's hand touched his skin. He knew he would have a handprint there like Dean had sustained from Castiel._

_It hurt like a bitch._

_Gabriel, being what he was, knew what Sam's soul looked like. It was a dark, rich honey colour, almost to the point of being brown but not quite. Over the time Sam had been drinking demon blood the colour had darkened to almost black. When he had been killing Lilith there was hardly any golden hue left, but now it was pure again and radiant and Gabriel let a part of himself travel through his open wound, into Sam's body._

_He knew it would hurt; people hardly entered into contracts with Angels anymore and that left them weak. If his Father had allowed it Gabriel would have stayed on Earth much more actively, not just waited until he was sent down again; the lack of exposure, like an ecosystem when introduced with a new predator, had made the humans weak and less able to withstand the feeling of melting souls with an Angel._

_Although Sam was trying very hard. It pleased Gabriel to know that he wasn't giving part of his soul up to someone who was unworthy of it. Slowly his dark wings solidified and stretched out behind him, wrapping around human and vessel until they were completely cut off from the noise, the sensations of the outside world. Just the two of them now, molding together more intimately than lovers did. Gabriel waited, searching out with a part of himself, past the clotting wound Sam's shaking body bore until he found the place where that hazel burned most brightly, and he fused together the sincerity of the Pact, the Deal they were making together._

_And into Sam's mind Gabriel whispered the words of the tribute, the sacrifice he must make when he came out of Hell;_

_To be destroyed  
You must seek destruction.  
Find the one called Friend.  
Brother. Protector.  
Guardian.  
His life will be claimed  
As payment for the world.  
One brother must die by  
the hand of he who  
started it all.  
Savior. Sword.  
Unite as one.  
Destroy the servant  
who, in another life,  
Disobeyed._

_Over and over, he chanted those words, made sure Sam would remember them, because despite the fact that Gabriel wanted the fighting to be over, it would also never begin if Sam succeeded. Both ways he would win, and if he could help it he would rather not see a soul like Sam's – so strong and young and naïve – rotting in the Pit for something like saving the world._

_But he knew the demons would try their damndest to make his forget. Gabriel had to make sure that didn't happen._

--

_It wasn't long after his meeting with Gabriel that the birds came._

_Sam had asked for a few hours, just so that he could leave all his weapons and everything in the motel room where Dean would surely find them, make sure they were taken care of. He left Ruby's knife embedded in the small wooden table in the motel room; where he was going it wouldn't really do him much good._

_It wasn't like with Hell Hounds; Sam was the only one who could see them, yes. And yes, they were absolutely terrifying, but they were also beautiful; golden feathers covered completely a thirty-foot wingspan, bright beacons of pure radiance shining from between the sharp, pointed beaks that opened and closed in silence but managed to let loose an ear-splitting shriek into the youngest Winchester's ears. Sam knelt to the ground, his hands covering his ears, but he could only watch, enthralled, as the mighty beats descended on him. The covering of his hands was no match for the amount of blood running between his fingers, coating his palms and the backs of his hands in a light, beautiful sheen of crimson, ear drums busted from the cries of the eagles._

_They claws were just as sharp as their beaks and both tore into Sam's back and chest. To his credit Sam didn't scream from the pain; there wasn't really any pain. Not anymore; not now that he realized at least his death had been given a purpose._

_Watching it all, Gabriel smiled and pulled a lollipop from a pocket in his jeans, the colour matching the pool of blood beginning to stain the floor as his birds did their duty and Sam's soul was thrust into the Pit._

"_Good luck, Sammy Boy, and for God's sake don't forget your sacrifice."_

_Once the birds' cries silenced, and Gabriel sent them on their way, the Archangel called for his brother, the one who he knew he would be able to trust to take care of Sam Winchester's body until he rose out of Hell; for Gabriel knew he would succeed. He had to. Dean had broken because he thought there would be a forever down in the Pit. The Winchester gene of 'Never Back Down' and the knowledge that he only had to be down there for a certain amount of time…Yes, Gabriel knew Sam Winchester would succeed in not breaking._

_The only problem would be if he remembered any of that._

"_Gabriel."_

_He turned at his name, and the soft flutter of wings that heralded his brother's arrival. "Castiel. Take him to a hospital. Call it a car accident. He must be kept alive until he makes it out."_

"_How can you be so sure he will?" And there…there is was; more proof of Castiel's ties with these human creatures, for just beyond the normal monotony of his brother's tone, Gabriel could detect anger, frustration, pain. Castiel was very attached to his charges, Gabriel knew, and losing one would be painful enough without the knowledge that the same loss would hurt the other. "How can you be so sure you haven't just doomed us all?"_

"_Have faith, brother. You used to preach it so wisely before." Castiel stiffened, his jaw locking and hands clenching to fists at his sides as he fought to control his retort. Gabriel smiled, stepping more closely to his brother, the one he'd been ready to call friend before he fell. "And if you do not have faith, have obedience. I hear you're lacking somewhat in that department." And with that he vanished, leaving Castiel to stare at Sam Winchester's broken body, torn apart by the claws of eagles. He sighed and pulled out his cell phone, hating that because of the sigils he had carved into Dean's ribs he had to resort to such measures._

"_Yeah, Cas, what's up? Have you found him?" Dean's voice was heavy with worry, exhaustion of trying to hunt his brother down._

"_Yes." And with that word, Dean knew. He hung up immediately, so that Castiel wouldn't be able to hear him, but the Angel knew that Dean could tell from his voice that…his little brother hadn't made it._

_And he didn't even know why, what had possessed Sam to do what he did._

_Castiel sighed lightly, his breath misting in the chilly air as he looked down at that body again. The birds don't tear the body, not really. The body bleeds and the skin shreds but there is no pain from it; the eagles rip away at a soul, at the space inside human beings or, more commonly, demons. Castiel knew that Sam wouldn't have felt any pain when he was taken, which was more than could be said for Dean, but he also knew that the last Winchester was not going to rest until he got answers, and when he got answers…_

_Dean was going to kill him, if he didn't try killing Gabriel first.

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**Author's Note:**__I don't want to drag this story out, it's mostly just a plot bunny that wouldn't leave me the hell alone, so I'm not going into a lot of detail with a lot of things. I can't imagine this story will be more than a few chapters long. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. Review if you want.

HigherMagic x


	3. Chapter 3

**Mirror Image**

**WARNING: Major Spoilers for Season Five. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural. If I did I would make the boys do stuff to each other, and there would definitely be some Destiel action ;] I DO own a laptop that is currently freaking out over false software. Sigh.**

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**Awakening**

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_There hadn't been much of Sam left, when Dean had finally managed to gather himself enough to call Castiel back, and follow the Angel's directions to the place where Sam's body still lay, broken and bleeding and pale. Bobby was with him, having gotten a teary call from Dean – though the Winchester would be __damned...again...__if he admitted it – and followed him in his light blue pick-up. Mercifully Castiel had granted them a bit of peace and solitude; he'd disappeared by the time Dean arrived there._

_He spun the car to a savage halt on seeing his brother's body. Sam lay in the middle of a field, tire tracks marking the path of the stolen car he'd driven there. Dean wouldn't have been able to spot the body were it not for the softly pulsating light that emanated from his little brother's chest, right above his heart. It would have almost been a celestial heartbeat; such was the rhythm of it, if Sam was still alive._

_Sam…oh God Sam what have you done now…?_

_The eldest and last remaining Winchester knelt over his brother's broken body in a pose that was horribly familiar for the older Hunter accompanying him; he'd seen it when Sam had managed to call him, and Bobby had been forced to drive out to where Sam had designated Dean's final resting place. Bobby's face was pale; his cheeks flushed red and stained with teary streaks as he looked away from the sight. This wasn't right; the brothers had been separated far too much and now this! Taken away by demons, for he __had __to assume it was demons, since Sam was clean from the blood and despite the fact that there were no crossroads nearby._

"_Dean. Dean come on it's time to go." Bobby couldn't stand the sight of this; the man he had loved like a second son held by his brother. Though Dean's face was down turned, the slowly darkening ground beneath him let Bobby know of Dean's tears._

"_Bobby, I can't."_

_Dean couldn't just let his brother go like this; torn, bloody on the ground after being ripped apart by Hell Hounds, just as Dean had been. He couldn't._

_He wouldn't._

"_What would make him do this?" the last Winchester continued, drawing a shaking hand along the side of his brother's face. At least Sam looked peaceful in death, the normal worries creasing his brow and darkening his eyes seemed gone from his little brother. But Dean knew...for with a deal came Eternity in Hell, and that Sam was suffering right now...right then. "Why would he sell his soul?" Bobby made no move to answer; it was clear that the younger Hunter was merely speaking aloud; "Revenge? For what? And what demon would deal now?"_

"_Dean...please..." Bobby sighed heavily, running a hand over his weary, haggard face. "Let's just salt and burn him. Please. Let's go."_

_A flutter of wings was their only warning. As one Dean and Bobby turned to look at the Angel. Castiel didn't even get a chance to speak, not that he intended to; his gaze was focused on Dean, his charge, with that deep, soulful blue gaze that at once held pity, understanding and a sorrow greater than if the vessel was crying. A small part of Dean's heart broke for the sight of a mourning Angel, even if the rest rose up and boiled with violent, reddened anger._

_Castiel met him stride for stride, neither man talking until they were merely a feet apart. "Dean, I need to talk to you." Dean pushed the angel he had been close to calling 'friend' away, his eyes as black as the demons he hunted. He was unable to take the monotonous, unfeeling voice that at once was usually exactly what he needed, what calmed and soothed him and at the same time riled the Hunter, made him want to keep fighting, to keep doing his job. Unfortunately, the stronger reason for surviving was no longer there, and Castiel was outnumbered by Dean's rampaging emotions._

"_You allowed my brother to get tossed into Hell, you spineless, soulless son of a bitch! How can I ever forgive you? You knew this was coming, didn't you?"_

"_It was not Hell Hounds that tore your brother apart."_

_Dean was speechless for a long moment, before he shook himself and remembered his voice; "Why? Why would Sammy make a deal?" Gone was the righteous anger for his brother's sake; what would possess Sam to strike a deal with demons, right as the first wave of the Apocalypse began to hit them?_

"_It was not Hell Hounds that tore your brother apart," Castiel repeated, his voice hard and unnerving in its lack of empathy. He had to make sure Dean understood; "It was a different kind of animal; golden eagles. They work as part of Heaven's…cavalry, if you will. They went after your brother when he struck his deal." Castiel cocked his head to one side in that distinctive way of his, the way that Dean had come to know well; it was the look of someone studying, taking in human reactions and feelings and storing them away for future use and emulation. "For the sake of yourself. He has worked to save you."_

"_I don't need saving!"_

_Within a second Castiel was close again, less than a feet from the young Hunter as Bobby watched on in his silence; he acted as observer, to make sure Dean didn't get too angry and throw a punch, and to make sure that the Angels didn't get a-smiting. __Someone __had to remember this conversation later and it sure as Hell wasn't going to be Dean, what with his emotions every which-way. "You brought the Apocalypse on, Dean. You destroyed the world and your brother placed the final nail in its coffin. He wanted to help you, so he made a deal. With an Archangel."_

"_An Archangel? How is that possible? Michael doesn't want anything to do with Sam, and Rafael's just as soon going to try and kill him..." Dean trailed off, his eyes widening even more. "Did Sam say 'Yes'?" he asked, the horrible dread of the possibility coiling itself like a snake in his lungs, cutting off his air._

"_Dean."_

"_Damn it, Cas! Answer me! Did Sam say 'Yes' to Lucifer?"_

_There was an awful, eternally long baited-breath pause, before Castiel sighed out a soft 'No'. Dean's released breath was more violent as he turned away, pacing a few steps away until he managed to calm his head and his heart, both of which had gone into overdrive whilst awaiting Castiel's answer. Once he figured he __wouldn't __punch the Angel in the face for making him wait, he turned around again. "That leaves Gabriel."_

_Castiel nodded once; his slow, deliberate motion. "Yes."_

"_Why would Gabriel make a Deal with Sam? How did the son of a bitch actually manage to find him?" Dean paused, looking down at his littler brother's body, where that damned pulsating light still lay in his chest, visible under torn skin and ripped clothing. Slowly, like a bruise rising up, there seemed to be a the beginnings of a hand-print, searing itself onto his brother's chest above the straight, surgery-like cut above his heart. Gabriel's, must be, like when Castiel hauled Dean himself out of Hell. "Gabriel just wants the fighting to stop, what would sending Sam to Hell accomplish except a delay?"_

"_I don't know." Castiel's bright blue gaze followed the green of his human to Sam Winchester's prone form. "I expect he doesn't think Sam will last very long. Then perhaps he will be too broken to resist Lucifer anymore. After thirty years you were willing to torture others for the sake of ending your pain. Sam might just need more pushing than can be given to him up here."_

"_But what did it buy him?" Dean's eyes were filling with tears again when he landed his gaze back onto his Angel. "Does he stay down there forever? Is he going to Hell permanently?" And despite the resignation of his tone Castiel could see the faint hope, the beginnings of a desire for an answer perhaps even Dean himself hadn't quite registered in his mind; after all, he thought, if Castiel could raise Dean from Hell he could do the same for Sam, surely?_

_Best to bite that idea in the bud whilst the hope wasn't there; bluntly as always the Angel answered his human; "Just as I would be the only one to raise you from Hell, Sam too has an Angel watching over him. Only that Angel will be able to pull him out of the Pit, and only that Angel will be able to make sure he doesn't break." Again, blue and green eyes tracked to the dead Winchester. "That light in his body is part of the Angel's soul, the Angel that made the Deal and the only Angel that will be able to save your brother from perdition."_

--

When Dean finally made it into the room where his brother was being housed, he just about collapsed with relief. There Sam was…_his Sammy_…very much alive and well. Despite the fact that his brother looked like he'd been through Hell and back – which, Dean supposed, he had – Sam looked practically born again. His heartbeat was strong, monitored in rhythmic beeping by the cardiogram, and he was eating what Dean could only think was meant to be pork chops and mashed potatoes, but looked like blocks of grey and pink.

What Dean wasn't prepared for was Sam's reaction to him.

It was like looking into the face of the Devil himself.

Sam shrank back, a look of pure horror and terror on his face as he, for all intents and purposes, tried to burrow himself into the pillows and blankets of his hospital bed. The machine monitoring his heart jack-knifed in speed dramatically, Sam's skin broke out in clammy sweat and his breathing accelerated to a point when Dean thought his little brother was just on the edge of hyperventilating.

"You…Get away from me!"

Dean didn't have a chance to react as Castiel stepped through, his influence evident in the room as Sam almost immediately relaxed. The older Winchester could now feel the pain of his brother's rejection in his heart, for even with the Angel standing between them Sam was obviously still terrified, his eyes flicking sideways to Dean with all the fear of a prey animal. His body shook gently with tremors as he tried to get his breathing under control.

"Sam Winchester." Sam's dark hazel eyes darted up to Castiel's calm, emotionless face, and once again some of the shivering died down. Dean couldn't believe what he was seeing; Sam was calmer around _Castiel _than his own brother? Sam had _always_ been a little freaked out since meeting Angels and finding that they weren't the Hallmark version everyone preferred.

_This must have been what Cas was trying to warn me about._

Quietly Dean exited the room, leaving Sam and Castiel to themselves. His insides burned with the jealousy of it, but he couldn't really help it if his own brother couldn't even look at him without having a full-blown panic attack. _This is worse than when that wraith poisoned us, _he thought ruefully, _at least then I knew there had to be sometimes going on. Lord knows what those demon bastards did to my brother to make him like this. _

--

"_Castiel, you're going in circles." It was taking a Herculean effort for the last Winchester not to try and beat the answers out of the Angel; he'd barely learned his lesson from punching Castiel before. All it had gotten him was a broken knuckle and a pissed-off Angel._

"_Trust me, Dean," Castiel replied in that infuriatingly calm tone of his, "I'm not allowed to tell you about the Deal otherwise it breaks; only if your brother remembers it can you ever know."_

"_What are you, allergic to straight answers? Why can't you tell me?"_

"_Telling you anything will hurl you both into Damnation, and no one would be able to pull you out again, not me, nor any of the other Angels that could do it, expect possibly Michael. And he wouldn't; a good long torture would weaken you enough to say 'Yes' to him, just as perhaps someone is hoping to accomplish this now with your brother."_

"_How long will Sammy be downstairs, huh? Forever?"_

"_As long as you were; four months."_

"_Four months? That's…" Dean fisted his hands in his hair, turning around to look at his baby brother's corpse again. "That's too long. He'll never make it. Hell…no one would."_

"_We'll have to see, won't we? Sam is stronger than you think, Dean. In truth, the only people who really want him to fail are the demons. Gabriel will have given your brother help before he set off on his task."_

_Realization dawned. "The glow?" Dean asked, looking back at his Angel, who nodded once._

"_A part of Gabriel, to strengthen your brother's heart against Hell's onslaught."_

"_What if it isn't enough? What if he fails?"_

"_If he fails, the world falls. We all fall."_

_There was silence again between Hunter and Angel, until Bobby, having decided that was enough doomspeak to last them right into the Apocalypse, hoisted Sam's surprisingly light body into his arms, to head towards the truck._

"_So…you know…" Castiel added. "No pressure."_

_Dean almost smiled at him.

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**Author's Note: **Thank you for everyone who took an interest in this story, and have sent me theories on who or what the tribute is. They're all very...interesting. =3 I'm just flattered people care about my rabid plot bunny. He's having fun in my mind, blocking me from being able to write ANY other story, which is annoying but must be dealt with. I go back to school tomorrow so hopefully my creative joojoo with be back on top form by then.

Loves. Review if you want.

This was not beta'd, like, at all.

HigherMagic x


	4. Chapter 4

**Mirror Image**

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**Hell, No Less**

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_Flesh._

"_How many strikes does it take to get to the centre of a Winchester?" the demon bitch asked in a sing-song voice. Sam's back was turned to her, tied to posts by his hands and ankles so his back was completely open and bare to her torture. "One?" A strike came down, but it wasn't that hard. Well…comparatively, since most whips could go right to the bone in a single hit. "Two?" Another, harder this time, and Sam could feel the fire running along the edge of sharp metal and burning rope. "Three!"_

_The third cut all the way to his spine, and his scream echoed in the cavern she'd placed them in._

_Abruptly the vision changed; he was no longer tied upright, didn't have to rely on his own two feet to keep him upright – if he sagged at all, he suffocated like some mockery of Jesus Christ on the cross, and his air was forced out of his lungs._

_He liked the sensation of breathing just enough to want to avoid that._

_Bone._

_His skin, being flayed off his body in such deep, cruel strokes he had to wonder his guts didn't spill out with every single one. The rack cranked another spoke and his body stretched, pulling sockets from themselves and he screamed loud and long, his voice joining the chorus of other tortured, damned souls._

_The demon holding the brutal cat-of-nine-tails, made crueler by the fire that singed along it with every movement, magnesium igniting with oxygen, laughed and tossed her blonde mane of hair back. He knew the bitch had taken this specific shape to screw with him more – his ex-girlfriend, Jessica._

_She stepped more closely to his beaten and bruised almost-corpse, her malevolent smirk of triumph increasing as another demon stepped forward with a scalpel and a butcher's knife. Sam knew whose form this one had taken, and he couldn't bear it. Day by day, hour by hour his memory was fading, but he knew this person had meant the world to him. A name repeated over and over in his head, becoming confused and echoing over itself so that the word didn't even make sense anymore;_

Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean!

Dean…why? _He cried out as the first incision was made; a brutal cut to his thigh from a swing of the butcher's knife, and it severed tendons and nerves so that he lost all feeling in the limb, but he still managed to sense the blood gushing from the wound. It made his head spin, the smell of it._

"_Come on, break. No one's waiting for you up there. All it takes is a kiss, lover."_

_It took all his effort, but he managed to swing his head around to look at her. His tongue had long ago been removed with a pair of red-hot tongs, blood dripped from his lips that had been sliced open and his mouth that was currently trying to rid his body of as much blood as possible._

_She puckered up, prepared for him to break. He merely spit a mouthful of blood into her face and laughed. The laugh turned into another scream as the knife in his gut twisted._

"_I'll make you pay for that, Winchester."_

_--_

"Who…Who are you? Who was that?" Memories, oh-so-vivid and terrifying swirled in the Hunter's head as that black-haired stranger crept towards him, silent and cautious. A strange pull in his chest made Sam gasp, as he leant forward by instinct to better sit up, to get closer to the creature that he knew wasn't human, but wasn't a demon either.

Hell, he would be able to _smell _a demon if it came close to him.

"My name is Castiel," the thing said, and again that strange pull made itself known. Sam looked down; half-expecting his heart to burst from his chest at the creature's voice, but what he saw was equally surprising; a hand print had been seared onto his skin. The flesh was blackened so it looked more like a tattoo than a burn, but he knew it for what it was; he also knew the other occupant of the room wasn't what gave it to him. "Sam," he looked up at the sound of his name, "do you…remember anything?"

The young Winchester shuddered; "Just…well…Hell," he said, somehow managing to smile despite the memories that assaulted him, images he would never unburn from behind his eyelids, things he would never be able to unsee, or unfeel. His body burned and trembled from its remembered torture, as though expecting for it to begin again at any moment.

The demons had gotten creative sometimes; sometimes they had sent Sam to alternate realities, to torture him of things he never could have had;

--

_The worst was when he'd said 'Yes'._

_It was awful…because he saw himself doing these awful things…torturing, killing…and yet smiling all the way. A true vessel, his obedience never faltered, and he never once tried to cast Lucifer out of his body, even when the Archangel had lain dormant in his mind, for Lucifer could do that; like a demon, the Devil had perfected the art of letting Sam have free reign over his body, and yet not actually leave it._

_Bobby was unprepared for the two gun-shots to his torso, and Sam left him bleeding in his wheelchair for the past tense Dean to find. He resurrected Ellen and Jo from whatever plane they had fled to, just for some extra torture and rendering by the Hell Hounds that they had managed to escape from before._

_Lucifer slaughtered demons, humans, Angels alike, having no care or qualm about anything he might touch, how it burned with every press of his fingertips. He didn't see point mourning over the destruction of the world…despite how he had preached of its beauty. For it was beautiful…and he would make it beautiful again once the cockroaches that were humans were rid of._

_His brother never saw it coming when Sam sent a blade through his heart._

_Or when he dislocated Dean's neck, snapping his head almost completely from his shoulders._

_Or when Sam aimed and fired, putting a bullet right between his eyes._

_Or when he used his psychic powers to collapse a building on top of Dean._

_Over and over again the demons tortured him with images of his brother's death, until Dean ceased to mean anything to Sam. When that happened, Dean turned into a torturer himself. A demon took on his shape and met Sam blow-for-blow, doing everything that Dean himself had confessed he'd done when he'd broken in Hell. Sam knew there was significance, but eventually the face of his beloved brother became just another torturer._

_When the work was done for the day, Sam chanted. He didn't pray, for there was no one to hear him. He didn't say 'Yes', and he didn't break. He just repeated the words given to him by…someone…important…significant…_

_But it was hard._

_Over and over he repeated them, every night, until they ceased to mean anything. Until they stopped seeming so important and repeating those out of necessity became repeating them out of habit._

_Sometimes he spoke it in Latin._

_Sometimes he couldn't speak it at all, but held desperately to the remembered words he refused to forget; forgetting them would be worse than the torture. It was the only thing keeping him sane._

_It was the only thing keeping him human._

_The only thing that kept him from breaking._

--

Castiel brought Sam out of whatever yesterday his mind had sent him to with a soft touch to his forehead. Sam closed his eyes, the pull in his chest intensifying until it became almost painful. His heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest, but not from adrenaline or love or anything he would normally associate it with…

It almost seemed like, to him, the feeling he had after Jess had died.

Heartbreak.

On that revelation he shied away from Castiel's touch. The Angel didn't look hurt; he understood. Although Dean had initially fought it, Castiel was meant to be a calming influence to his charge, a protector and guardian and, most of all, a balance. Just as Castiel's nature balanced out the hotheaded, trigger-happy, tortured, broken Winchester, Sam's Angel would balance him out.

Castiel had no business touching what was no longer his.

"Who was that?" Sam asked again, once his heart rate had calmed down as Castiel had moved himself away from the bed, towards the window. The Angel stood silent, watching the outside ebb and flow of traffic in and out of the hospital for a moment before he turned back to look at the risen Hunter.

"Do you remember anything?"

--

"Well, Hello Dean."

Within a moment Dean had turned, slamming the speaker up against the wall, rage painting his expression dark and ominous. His words were all but snarled to the smaller man; "You have three seconds to give me a good reason I shouldn't have myself an Archangel Barbeque."

Gabriel smiled, shaking his head lightly, and suddenly Dean was holding onto nothing. He turned around, knowing the man would be right behind him, and he wasn't disappointed. "Answer me, damn it!" he growled, fighting the urge to just…_hit something_…preferably Angel but he didn't want to break his hand right then. "What did Sam sell his soul to you for, huh? What was it?"

"And why should I tell you? Ever heard of something like Confidentiality?" Typical response from the Trickster, it did nothing but fuel the fire in Dean's heart. His hands clenched and unclenched beside him. Gabriel sighed. "Look, I can't actually tell you; that was a thing of the Deal. Sam's the only one allowed to tell you – or one of the demons that tortured him – and that's only if he remembers. I take it that since you're out here and not in there having a nice family reunion that he doesn't know you."

"Oh, he knew me alright." Dean looked away, remembering the look of horror and _fear _on his little brother's face. It was worse than…well, anything. Dean couldn't ever remember Sammy being so afraid, and to see that look directed at _him, _like he was the Devil Incarnate. It was awful. "But not as me. I'd bet money those bastards used my face to torture him."

"Likely." Gabriel nodded, folding his arms across his chest as, at once, both he and Dean's eyes travelled to the door of Sam's room. At that moment Castiel emerged, looking tired and, worse, hopeless. It was the first time Dean hadn't seen faith in the Angel, and the effect was staggering.

"He doesn't remember anything," he said once he'd come up on the two, not looking the least bit surprised to find Gabriel there. Of course he would know anyway, but still. "Not even the damned tribute."

"Wait, what? Tribute?"

"Like a sacrifice," Castiel explained quickly, ignoring Gabriel as he moved towards the entrance to Sam's room. Dean cut off further reply by stepping in front of the Archangel.

"Wait a minute there, skippy. You're not going anywhere near my brother."

"Dean, he has to."

"Yeah? And why is that?"

"Because I'm the one who pulled him out, genius." Gabriel rolled his eyes. "And I'm probably the only one that can make him remember. Now, if you don't mind I'd like to get back to saving the world now, if it's all the same to you, or you can continue stopping me whilst time runs out and the only hope for the world slowly starts forgetting _everything_, if he hasn't already." Without another word Gabriel swept past Dean, ignoring the glare of contempt he received.

_If looks could kill…_

Finally, Dean directed his gaze back towards Castiel, figuring he might as well get information from someone who was a little more likely to tell him something; "So what was that about a tribute?"

"A sacrifice. Goes right back to the beginning of the Old Testament; anyone who made a Covenant with God or one of his Angels had to first serve his part of the bargain, and then up to forty days afterward a sacrifice would have to be made. Used to be simple things, like animals or a random person, but over the years we've had to get more specific. No one enters into contracts with Angels anymore, hardly, and so…well…Sam has to give a sacrifice to God before forty days, otherwise he will get tossed back into the Pit and the Deal is off."

"And you're telling me he doesn't remember what it was he had to sacrifice? I mean…we can't by any chance just go and shoot a goat or something?"

Castiel shook his head, Dean's lame attempt at humor rolling off of him like water off a duck's back. "No. It's very specific to each person. Gabriel will have told him it, but if Sam forgets it in the Pit it's not Gabriel's fault. I will try and help him remember, Dean, and you must as well."

"How can I? He practically jumped out of the window last time he saw me! I'm telling you, Cas, those demons did something to him. Something awful. He doesn't even get to remember why he ended up in the Pit? All he knows is that somehow he's back and he has no contacts, no friends, doesn't even remember his own family?"

"The outlook does look bleak."

Dean sighed heavily, running both hands through his hair and then over his face. _Why, Sammy…why did you have to do this? I just want to know why…_. His eyes travelled back to the open transparent door. If he listened very closely, he could hear Sam speaking, and Gabriel must be in there too.

"Understatement of the century, Cas."

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**Author's Note: **I didn't really check this one either. Sorry, my beta doesn't really do Supernatural - I'm trying to get her to watch it, but the going's tough. She freaked out at the Woman in White. I can't imagine how she'll handle the rest of it - and there's only so many times I can proof-read my own work. Stuff's happening...sigh, mostly I'm just annoyed that this seems to be the only thing I'm capable of writing at the moment. Oh well, it's not going to last long.

Loves. Review if you want.

HigherMagic x


	5. Chapter 5

**Mirror Image**

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**The Tribute**

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Sam didn't recognize the new person as he entered his room, but he was incredibly aware of the sudden pounding of his heart, the way his breathing quickened and the rate of beeping from the heart monitor went haywire, erratic and sudden in his chest. His skin burned where the handprint was on his torso, and his heart felt like it was about to bust out of his chest. For some strange reason he was overcome with the urge to leap from his bed and hug the stranger, like physical contact with him would make everything alright, that everything would make sense again.

Due to the IV in his arm he didn't think moving was a good idea, and his aching throat could only force out one word; "You…"

Gabriel smirked a little bit, in an expression that Sam found heart achingly familiar and yet so completely foreign that he felt like he could cry. "So…at least not everything's lost." The Archangel moved forward, sitting himself on the side of Sam's bed and took a hold of the other man's shoulder lightly. "Do you know who I am?"

It took a moment, Sam's brow furrowed and his teeth sinking into his lower lip, as he tried to get his desperate and fried brain to remember, before his eyes hardened and he shook his head. The answer Gabriel was expecting, but not the expression. Sam's jaw clenched, his fingers curling viciously into the scratchy hospital bed sheets. "Sam…" Like a stubborn child Sam's eyes refused to meet the Archangel's, despite the pain that seemed to course through the young hunter when he denied himself that. It was weird…he felt like his heart was breaking in two with his rejection, like what his mind wanted and what his body wanted weren't in sync at all.

Of course, since his brain was pretty much fried to hell that wasn't much of a surprise.

"Sam!" The sharp cutting edge of Gabriel's voice snapped the young Winchester out of whatever mulish mindset he'd set himself into, and his dark hazel eyes met the serious brown of the Archangel's vessel. "This is important; I need you to tell me everything that you remember."

"I…" Again, Sam hesitated. He could feel the frustration, the desperation pouring off the other man and it made him pause. Slowly, his painkiller-addled brain began putting pieces together, trying to make a picture for his situation. It was a shame he came up with the wrong one.

Again he shut his mouth, hardened his eyes and his posture went stiff. He ignored the tightness in his chest, the pounding headache he was given as he fought every desire to…He didn't even know. He felt like he should please this other creature, serve him, give him the information he wanted; whatever Sam remembered. Surely there was no harm in that?

But the demons were smart, sneaky – who knew what insignificant detail would turn out to mean the world?

The pieces of Sam's puzzle; his torturer was here, in the same building. He woke up knowing nothing, greeted by a doctor who reminded him too much of the demon bitch who'd so loved to flay his skin off his bones, day after day. Then this guy comes along…two of them, strange creatures he's never seen before, heard of, and they want information out of him? And he suffers from pain when he refuses to give it?

Yeah…he knew it was too good to be true. Sam's conclusion; this must be another concoction of the demon spawn. There was no way in Hell they'd let him off the hook so easily. Besides, despite the fact that time had seemed to drag forever in Hell…people went there for an eternity…surely an eternity didn't last so short a time? Of one thing Sam Winchester was certain; he wasn't out, and he definitely wasn't going to tell them _anything_. Not until he knew what the hell was happening to him. Not until they either got bored with this game, or he got his memories back.

Gabriel's jaw clenched in frustration, as he realized that Sam wasn't going to supply him with any answers. Not yet, at least. Instead he sighed, forced his expression to be calm; he was meant to help his human, after all, not frighten him further. Sam _had _just come back from Hell, after all, with no memories. It would be surprising if he was in any better shape.

"Sam…" His voice was low, soothing as he moved his hand to rest it on the human's forearm. There was a sense of growing warmth before Sam flinched away, but the tingling feeling remained behind as one soul recognized the other. "Listen to me; I am not your enemy. You will never have anything to fear from me, or Castiel, or Dean." Damn the stupid Contract – Gabriel was now beginning to feel the effects of not being able to tell anyone about the Deal. Doing so would force Sam back into the Pit. Even restoring his memories using his Angelic Powers would be, in some eyes, a breach of the terms.

_Damn it._

"Tell me who you are," Sam muttered after a moment, his gaze focused on the half-open window, eyes far away. Suddenly they brought him into focus and he looked at Gabriel, met the Archangel's gaze surprisingly steadily, despite the fact that the Archangel could hear Sam's heartbeat going a mile a minute.

"My name is Gabriel."

_Gabriel…_

"I know you by something else. You used to be something else. So was that man…" Hazel eyes travelled to the open glass door, where Dean had left quickly after Sam's reaction to him, and he shuddered heavily, his closed eyelids only projecting images of a cruel smile and the flash of a blade in firelight. "And I knew…Castiel." He frowned. His headache pounding more harshly against the inside of his skull as he tried to remember, his breathing heavy once he gave up. "I can't remember anything…"

Sam sounded so helpless, so utterly alone, and Gabriel's vessel's heart went out to the Archangel's charge, to try and comfort him in the only way he felt he could – since Sam shied away from his physical touch, Gabriel closed his eyes and gently brushed Sam with his spirit. If Sam had the vision of an Angel he would be able to see the giant black wings of the Archangel surrounding the both of them, just barely tracing his flight feathers over his Hunter's skin. Barely the whisper of a contact made Sam shiver, though he didn't know why.

His eyes were distant, his expression still lost, but his heartbeat had calmed noticeably, and he didn't seem to feel so alone. Lost, maybe, but definitely not alone. "Sam, I want you to know that I'm going to be here to help you, with whatever you need. I want you to get your memories back, to feel better, and to get better. But I can't help you unless you let me, alright?" There was distrust clear in the Hunter's eyes, but he warily nodded, swallowing. Gabriel smiled – progress, at least. "All right. Now get some sleep – you look like you need it." He stood, turned, and left the room. Sam wasn't sure what happened after that – after all, he sure as Hell didn't _want _to sleep, but the feeling of lethargy seemed to curl around him like a blanket, drawing his aching body and exhausted mind into blissful sleep, mercifully devoid of nightmares.

--

When night fell Sam woke up. It was almost midnight and he could hear the screeching of eagles.

His movements were frantic, driven with the madness of terror as he shoved himself up from the bed, tearing out the IV from his arm. He bit back a hiss as he also ripped himself away from the machines that were connected to him, and there was a high-pitched beeping as the heart monitor was detached.

He knew he didn't have much time, if any at all. But he had to get away – he couldn't let the birds find him. There was a duffle on a chair by his bed, possibly his clothes, laundered and folded by hospital staff once he woke up. He pulled on the clothes quickly and ran, ran for everything he had.

Dean had fallen asleep in the waiting room chairs, but started awake when he heard running footsteps that he immediately recognized as his brother's. He sat up just in time to watch Sam fly by, panic clear on his face. Dean recognized that expression – it was the same one he'd had when the Ghost had infected him with sickness, and he thought he would die from fear itself.

--

_And on the walls of Sam's hospital room, the words of the Tribute bled themselves in black onto the walls…_

--

Gabriel watched as the words came to life, letters written in with the fluidity of blood, black against white walls and written in what he recognized as Sam's disjointed script;

_To be destroyed  
You must seek destruction._

"What does that even mean?" asked his counterpart, cocking his head to one side. Gabriel turned his head towards the other male, soft smile on his lips before he looked back to the words.

"I cannot say. Sam must figure it out for himself. I wouldn't have it that way, but who are we to question the will of God?"

"God is dead, Gabriel. You know this." The voice was hard, cold, frightening in its lack of warmth. The Archangel's ethereal wings shuddered lightly against his back before draping onto the floor. Again the blonde sighed, cocking his head to watch as the remainder of the Tribute wrote itself…

_Find the one called Friend.  
Brother. Protector.  
Guardian._

The man not Gabriel chuckled lightly. "Well, I guess we know who that is."

"Oh, do we now? Nothing is transparent, my brother. Never think it is."

_His life will be claimed  
As payment for the world.  
One brother must die by  
the hand of he who  
started it all._

Another snort of derision, another eye-roll and heavy sigh. "Gabriel…this is foolish. Sam will never go through with this Tribute. He would never betray himself, his brother…everyone. His guilt is too much."

"I will help him through it."

"Gabriel…" The man sighed, placing a hand on the shoulder of the man he would have called friend in Heaven. "He is your charge, yes, but he is not bound to you. Not in the same way Dean and Castiel are bound. You cannot have with him what they do."

_Savior. Sword.  
Unite as one.  
Destroy the servant  
who, in another life,_

"…I can try."

_Disobeyed._

--

"Sam! Sam!" The younger Winchester paid no heed to his name as Dean took off after him. Usually Sam's longer legs and lighter build meant he could run much faster than his older brother, but Sam's body was weak from four months of disuse, and Dean was still in fighting shape, ready to bear down on his brother like the Hunter he was. He managed to tackle Sam to the ground at the bottom of a stairwell.

Sam's response was quick and deadly. Terror flushed his system like the best steroid in the world; he twisted around in Dean's grip and landed an elbow to his brother's throat, trying desperately to wriggle free, to escape. Dean held on through sheer force of will, pressing his face into his brother's ribs as he tried to suck in air through his bruised windpipe, trying to keep Sam pinned down as much as he could until the other Winchester calmed down somewhat.

That didn't seem to be happening any time soon.

"Get the hell off, you demonic son of a bitch!" Sam cried, and it tore at Dean's heart to have final confirmation of what his brother believed him to be; those black-eyed, soulless sons of bitches they hunted and killed, or had. Until this damn Apocalypse started.

"I'm not a demon, Sam!"

"My ass!" Again, Sam's struggling was driven by fire, and he was incensed to flee, to run away to…where? When? What? He had nowhere to run but run he must, to get away from the demons on his tail. "Get off me! Let me go! Please!"

And like that the floodgates opened. Well…rather they shattered. Sam broke down, on his hands and knees on the floor. His head hung between his arms, supporting his upper body on his elbows as he sobbed brokenly. Slowly Dean released him, moving up to kneel next to his brother. His arms went around Sam's torso, holding him as tightly as he could, afraid that Sam would shy away from his again. He might just die if that happened.

One hand made its way up and down his little brother's spine as Dean whispered soothing half-words and non-words into his ear, like he used to. Like when little Sammy would have a nightmare and it was, of course, Dean's job to calm him down and make sure that whatever was troubling him wasn't going to come to him anymore.

Too bad he was the one frightening his brother now.

"It's okay, Sammy…it's okay. I'm here, you're safe…You're safe…" Dean's voice broke as he tried to calm Sam down, his heart cracking in two when Sam merely kept sobbing, every other word a broken 'please' or 'leave' or 'don't'. Dean's heart broke for his brother, for even when he was in Hell the demons had never so completely shattered him. At least he came to with his memories. Sam must be completely and utterly lost and alone, with no one he felt he could turn to. Hell, the demons had managed to turn him against his own family – they'd used Dean's face, for God's sake! When this was all over Dean was going to make sure every demon bitch and bastard paid for what they did to his brother tenfold.

"Dean…" His heart leapt at his name, but it wasn't Sam who spoke. Castiel was standing in front of the both of them, his eyes sorrowful as he looked at the two Winchesters, one of whom was openly sobbing, and the other whose face was covered in tears and he didn't even know it.

Sam looked up at the Angel, eyes widening in recognition before he frowned again. "Dean," he murmured, the name sounding foreign on his tongue for a moment before he shook his head, the familiarity oozing away as swiftly as it had come. "Dean…" He tried again, wanting his mind to sharpen, bring images he refused to let go of to the forefront of his mind. "Dean…" With sleep his brain was sharper, more able to see whatever lingered in the back of his memories.

--

_Blades swinging, cruel laughter and a smile that was positively wicked, blood lust mixed with regular lust mixed with a desire to see Sam break that was both beautiful and terrifying. Sam's tears mixed with his blood running down his face as he pleaded, begged for his brother to stop._

"_Dean…this isn't you…"_

"_Are you sure, Sammy?" the demon growled, eyes black as he stepped forward and placed a light kiss along his jaw, biting down with demonically sharp teeth and piercing through to bone. "Maybe this is exactly what I am…what I was destined to be…" The razor came down along Sam's cheek, slicing easily and Sam whimpered as Dean's lips were pressed against his. The demon's tongue was hard and demanding and forceful as he slipped past his brother's lips, claiming and dominating little Sammy's mouth and ignoring as his moan of pleasure mixed with Sam's moan of pain._

"_Don't worry…I'll be gentle…" Dean laughed again as Sam whimpered, knowing full well the demon version of gentle was…well, a paradox in itself._

--

"Dean…brother…"

"Yes…yes Sammy that's it. I'm your brother…"

"How could you do that to me?"

"I didn't do anything to you, Sammy. It was a demon, it wasn't me. I would never hurt you." Dean had no idea what 'he' had done to Sam in Hell, but judging from the violent shaking of his brother's body, it hadn't been good. Subtly Sam shifted away, sitting up against the wall so that he was facing Dean, hiding his back from his brother. That lack of trust cut through the older Winchester. And Castiel merely watched on in silence, until paramedics came around the corner, alarmed at the abandoned Winchester room and the words written onto the walls in black demon blood.

--

Dean, Castiel, Gabriel and Sam all stared at the words of the Tribute. The doctors had ordered someone to come and clean it off, but every time the words were rubbed away they came back, twice and thick and twice as hard to clean away. Eventually the doctors decided they would get the painter to come the next day.

"What does it mean?" Dean was finally the one to break the silence.

"I have no idea. I was hoping you could tell me," Sam murmured his voice shaky and scared as he glanced between Dean, Gabriel and Castiel. The older brother sighed and looked at his brother, hoping to one day wipe that look of fear from Sam's face forever. "This is about that Deal…isn't it?"

"You remember the Deal?" Castiel asked, focusing his gaze on Sam.

"No, but I really hope that I went to Hell because of that, because I hate to think that I was bad enough to go to Hell through my life anyway." Sam shuddered again and Dean bit his lip, hating the knowledge that…both of them were for Hell now. Both Winchesters had nothing to look forward to at death. Perhaps that would give them more reason to keep fighting, to fight to the very end of this damned war. Maybe saving enough people would earn them endless night, and not Hell.

Anything but Hell again.

"Sam…this is your Tribute. You have to find who you are meant to sacrifice within forty days…well, thirty-nine now and give them to God otherwise you get thrown back into the Pit." Gabriel's voice was harsh and unsympathetic…on the surface. To those who knew him they would be able to detect the hopelessness, the pained hope that glossed his tone.

"But…I don't know who it is? Isn't there, like, another way? Can't I -."

"I'm sorry, Sam. This is the Tribute, the price you must pay. If you can't figure it out then you're going back to Hell."

"But I don't want to go back!" His voice was high with panic, eyes wide and frantic and Dean wanted to punch the Angel for making his brother so afraid, though he knew it wasn't Gabriel's fault that Heaven seemed impervious to straight answers and cryptic as Hell.

"You're not going back," he said, voice hard. "We're going to solve this and we're going to keep you here. You're not going back there, Sammy. Not on my watch. Never again."

_I promise you, Sammy. Never again. I love you, little brother._

He might have been interested to know that Gabriel's thoughts ran along similar lines.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Again, not really beta'd. Sorry for mistakes. Loves you all! Review!

HigherMagic x


	6. Chapter 6

**Mirror Image**

* * *

**The Final Straw**

Now, normally Dean would be pissed off anyway to be in the same room as the person who was personally responsible for sending his brother to _forty years_ of Hell, and to also know that trying to vent out his anger on said person would only end in physical pain for him…if it weren't for the fact that _on top of that_ Gabriel seemed to be the only person Sam _wasn't _afraid of right now.

Yeah, that _really _pissed him off. Damn Angel-psychic-connection-crap-with-the-mind-reading-and-the-stupid-burning-handprints-and-the-_uggh._

To say Dean was a little frustrated would be an understatement. That and the fact that he couldn't get the damned Tribute out of his mind. A painter had come in the next day whilst Sam was sleeping, having been coaxed into that weird non-awareness that Angels sent people to so that he could get some rest. Every stroke of paint over the words and it was like nothing was there; they kept rising to the surface, dark and fresh and mocking.

"'_To be destroyed, you must seek destruction…'" _he quoted to himself, frowning as he looked at the words, glaring at them almost as though daring them to keep existing for another second. _"'Seek destruction…' _Well not like there's a shortage of that around here," he muttered cynically, rubbing a hand over his face as he sighed. He was exhausted, not having slept at all since that fitful hour or so he'd managed to get before Sam had run out of his room like the Devil himself was after him.

_Damn it, Sammy. Whatever you bargained for sure as Hell better have been worth it because I swear to God…_

Whatever it was he'd managed to get, it wouldn't happen at all if he didn't sacrifice this damned…thing, whatever the hell it was meant to be. _Stupid Bible and Jesus and God… What the hell is with Tributes anyway? What could _God _possibly want?_

"You project your thoughts very loudly, you know." During the time Sam had been…gone – he refused to think of him as dead, not anymore – Castiel had taken a habit of appearing very closely and suddenly next to Dean…you know, more than usual. Not that Dean minded at all; he felt like this made the Angel feel like he was helping, in his weird way. Literally becoming an angel on Dean's shoulder, and that put him at ease, the reminder that Cas would always be on his side, no matter what happened.

Still, didn't mean the Hunter was in the mood for evasive Angel crap. He sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face and glaring at the words from between the parted fingers of his hand. "You know, right now I'm really starting to hate Heaven and all the crap that comes with it."

Castiel smiled in his way, his head tilted very slightly to one side. "How you can see all that you've seen and still have no faith is truly remarkable."

"It's _because_ of all I've seen that I can't believe it, Cas. God wouldn't allow this to happen. Not even for the sake of all this 'Greater Plan' and 'Higher Purpose' crap you've come to believe in so much. Hell, it amazes _me _that _you _can still have any faith at all…Even the Archangels don't think God's around anymore."

"Not all of them, Dean, and you would do well to remember that."

There was a tense moment as Angel and Hunter stared each other down, one beseeching, the other angry and unwilling to listen to logic and reason. Dean sighed, willing to let the subject die for now and, like a compass to North, his eyes traveled back to the marred walls.

"I don't suppose you have any idea what the hell this is meant to mean?" he asked with a voice filled with false hope, wincing as he rubbed the sore muscles at the back of his neck.

There was a pause. "I have a few theories, none of them you would want to hear."

"Anything that stops my brother going back to Hell, Cas, and I'm all for it." Determined, hardened green eyes met sorrow-filled blue as, once again, the two men stared at each other, as though the prolonged eye contact would unveil the secrets of their minds and the universe. Then Cas gave his deliberate, slow nod, eyes flickering over to Sam's sleeping form just briefly.

"Very well. Then we have work to do," he said, before he pressed his middle and forefinger to Dean's forehead and they disappeared in a flutter of wings.

--

"_Where the hell are we?" Dean demanded, having only just recovered from the nausea-inducing experience that was Angel travel. He looked around himself, seeing nothing out of the ordinary…for them. Sam was sitting on one of two beds, staring at the ceiling seemingly without actually looking at it, lost in thought. The television was on but playing nothing, merely a high-pitched whine that Dean had come to recognize seemed to issue from it._

_He knew that sound; "Sam's listening to _Angels? _How are his eardrums not busted?"_

"_It's like I told you before," Castiel replied. "Some select humans can hear our actual voices, like Jimmy could. Apparently Sam is one of them; he is listening to the Angels now." Dean waited for further explanation, but Castiel didn't seem eager to give any. In fact, the Angel looked downright worried, his brow furrowed very slightly as he set his eyes on Sam, head cocked to one side in that 'Study The Human Race' way of his._

_It took a while for it to register that even though he was listening to the high-pitched whine, he wasn't actually being affected by it, like he had been when Castiel was attempting to talk to him normally. He looked back at Sam who was wearing an equally anxious expression as Castiel, hands laced behind his head but knotted tightly into his hair, as Dean knew his little brother tended to do when he was thinking really hard, or worried about something._

_He cocked his head to one side, trying to listen to the static to make sense of it._

_Nothing._

_Never one to be patient about, well, anything, Dean sighed heavily and glanced back at Castiel. "Alright, so basically right now all you're proving is that my brother can listen to Angels. While that freaks me out a little, it's not that much of an earth-shattering revelation, Cas. What was the point of bringing me here?"_

"_This is the first stop of many, Dean. Just listen; try and hear what Gabriel is telling your brother."_

_--_

He didn't have time to; just as Dean had managed to barely grasp at what could be words hidden within the static, he was pulled abruptly back to the present. Once again he was staring at the marred walls, but it was not Castiel standing beside him, but the Trickster. Gabriel.

"What the hell?" he demanded, once again feeling that need to vomit he didn't think he'd ever get used to. He turned to Gabriel, fully prepared to punch the Archangel in his smug, know-it-all, arrogant, good-for-nothing face, but Gabriel's expression stopped him. It was deadly serious; this guy wasn't playing games. Not anymore.

"What was spoken between me and Sam is none of your concern, and Castiel showing you that could have violated the terms of the Deal and thrown your little brother back into the Pit. I figured you wouldn't want that." There, a flicker of sarcasm, there and gone just as quickly. "Only Sam can tell you what he bargained for, Dean. Only Sam can do this; it had to be him."

Dean was getting _really _tired of that line. "You Angels…" he growled, his voice low, threatening as he advanced on Gabriel. The Archangel didn't move. "I've had it up to here," he raised his hand to eye level, "with all your tricks, and lies and secrets and your good-for-nothing faithful idiocy. You're like demons…No! You're worse than demons! At least I _know _demons lie, but you guys – you come in here preaching about God and love and faith and look at you! You're no better than the supernatural cockroaches I've been crushing all my life, and you're hanging eternity in that God-forsaken Pit over Sam's head for the sake of some damned _Tribute? _What the _hell _could _God _possibly want? It's not God behind this, no…God wouldn't allow this. This is just more of your Angel mind crap and I'm not falling for it! To Hell with the lot of you, Sammy and I are _done."_

"Dean…"

"No, Cas," the Hunter growled, holding up a hand to the Angel as he appeared by his side. "I mean it, really mean it this time. We're done with the lot of you. Take your Heaven and your salvation and your God and shove it up your Stepford ass, because I. Am. Done."

"_Dean…"_

"I swear to God if I turn around and you're still there I'm pouring Holy Oil over the both of you and setting you to deep-fry." Dean's tone was final, deadly. He awaited the tell-tale sound of wings flapping before he took a deep breath and turned around, ready to only greet the sight of black words on white walls.

Castiel was still standing there.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he snarled, grabbing a hold of the Angel's coat and slamming him up against the wall. For the briefest instant there was a flicker of expression before the infuriating calm mask was back up again. Castiel was, after all, a soldier, and he had seen his fair share of war. He knew the consequences of pushing an enemy too far, the sort of mindless emotion that seemed all-too-common when it came to Dean Winchester and protecting his brother. The man would –_ had_ – died and killed for Sam and would do so again without hesitation. "Why won't you leave us alone?"

"I told you once before, Dean; you are my charge, as is Sam to an extent. I'm not abandoning you, ever. I meant it; do what you feel you must, but my wish has only ever been to help you." There is was again, that flicker of emotion that Dean was so unused to that it caught him off guard every time. Castiel looked almost like he was pleading with Dean, begging with his eyes for the Hunter to understand. Slowly, very slowly, Dean backed away a step. He let Castiel go, and the smaller man dropped the few inches he'd been lifted to the floor.

The Winchester's voice was hard when he spoke again; "I'm telling you, Cas, one of these days…Bam! Boom! Straight to the moon!" Castiel tilted his head slightly, the frown on his face that told Dean that yet another cultural reference had been lost on him, and Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, calmed somewhat. There was no point wasting his energies raging at an Angel who wasn't going to leave him alone, when he could instead focus on…I don't know…more important things like making sure his little brother didn't go back to Hell.

--

_It seems to always go this way, doesn't it, Dean? You try and you try but you fail every time. "Protect Sammy." Not very difficult orders now, are they? But the problem isn't you, is it? It's the damned kid himself; no matter how out of your way you go to make sure he never knows what Hell is like…well, looks like he beats you yet again, doesn't he? He escaped you…oh wait; you don't like that word, do you? Escaped? __**Escaped? **__Makes you feel like a jailor, which you always have been, in a way. You would never let Sammy go, not without a fight. That's why you came after him, unable to even wait until he'd finished school. That's why Jess died. That's why Dad died. Everywhere you go, everywhere you take dear little _Sammy_, people die. It's not your fault, not really – how could you know your brother would turn out to be a mass murderer? How could you look into the little puppy eyes of your little baby brother and think that, one day, he would be the reason you were rotting in Hell? He sent you there; it wasn't your fault. He should have been looking. He should have seen the blade coming. Seems like those people had more sense than you did; you should have let Sammy die when you had the chance. If he had remained dead then none of this, at all, would have ever happened. If it wasn't for your stupid loyalty to this damned family then the entire _Apocalypse _could have been avoided. _

_No Sam._

_No Ruby._

_No Hell. _

_No nothing._

_Nothing._

_But you can't live with nothing, can you? Even when you were broke, had nothing but the clothes on your back and the guns in your trunk, you still had your family. You had your absent father who treated you as expendable cannon fodder and your brother who thought he would do better in the real world. What an eye-opener, eh? To think that if you hadn't shown up, Sam could have saved Jess. Or could he? You know he would have died too, or perhaps been taken by Yellow-Eyes. At least that would have saved the heartache of getting reattached to your brother. But you never knew him. You were never as close as you thought you were, and that hurts you, doesn't it, Dean-o? Don't worry, the pain will be over soon. Just close your eyes and drift away…_

--

"Dean!" Sam's outburst jolted Dean into wakefulness immediately, in full big-brother mode to go comfort whatever had made Sammy afraid. He was slightly disoriented, the taunting voice-over that had been his dream echoing over and over in his head, but he had to shake it away. Sam needed him.

Turns out…exactly the opposite. Sam was still fast asleep…well…as asleep one can be whilst having a nightmare. Sam's skin was flushed, his clothes sticking to him with sweat as he tossed and turned, trying to shake off the throes of the nightmare. Dean pushed himself to his feet with a harsh exhale that made Sam still, like a prey animal poised for flight.

Either he was aware, or his dream was very, _very _vivid.

Dean wasn't sure which he preferred.

"Dean…" His name was a pained moan from Sam again, and the fear he could hear there made his heart break. Slowly, ever-so-slowly, he crept over to his brother's bedside, ready to try and calm him down as best he could.

"Hey, Sammy, just a nightmare. You're alright, you hear me? Nothing's hurting you here…" Dean lay a gently hand on his brother's shoulder, to quickly withdraw. Sam was burning up, he felt like he was running an intense fever…or remembering the fires of Hell. Dean could remember feeling that way – feverish – the first few nights after he'd returned from Hell. Bracing himself for the almost-burning heat he tried to shake Sam awake again. "Sam!"

The younger Winchester sat bolt upright, breathing heavily and covered in sweat, his hair matted to his forehead as frightened eyes took in his surroundings. Dean was prepared to back away, unwilling to face the truth that he might have been the one to put that look there, but Sam's eyes suddenly locked with his and he let out a sound that could have possibly been the most beautiful sound ever right then – a sob of relief.

Strong arms wrapped around Dean in a death grip, Sam seeking comfort from his older brother as he'd always done, and in muscle memory Dean's arms came around his little brother in reply and hugging him tightly. It was the reunion they should have had when Sam had come back from Hell – it was almost the reunion they'd had when Dean had come back. Sam was in tears; Dean could feel the warm moisture seeping into the material of his shirt. The feverish feeling to Sam's skin was gone as quickly as it'd come, leaving him shivering with the sudden cold.

"Dean…"

"It's okay, Sammy. I'm here. You're safe, you hear me? I promise…" Dean stroked a hand through sweaty hair, resting his chin on Sam's head. "You're safe, Sammy…" He continued to mutter things, meaningless little comforts until he felt Sam's shaking slow, until the heartbeat he could feel hammering from a chest not his own managed to slow and Sam's breathing calmed. "Come on; let's get you cleaned up, huh? You're alright, I promise you. I love you, little brother. You're safe…"

And, hidden in the sidelines, the Witness stood. Watching.

* * *

**Author's Note: Alright...not really sure what's happened here. I seem to get into a habit of just becoming a means for the characters to write themselves. I have to say that when I stared I knew exactly who the Tribute was going to be. Now I'm not so sure...I might change my mind. Mwaha, because I'm evil like that. =P **

**Thank you for reading. Review! Much loves,**

**HigherMagic x**


	7. Chapter 7

**Mirror Image**

* * *

**Word Perfect**

* * *

"_I will never trick you…I will never lie to you…but you will say 'Yes' to me."_

"_That'll never happen."_

_The Devil merely smiled. He was in worse wear than when Sam had last seen him, when Dean had tried to take out the Devil with the Colt, unsuccessfully. The young Winchester shifted a little in his sleep, but other than that his brother was unaware of the current inner battle he was struggling to fight._

_--_

Sam had always been curious. It helped on the job – wanting to research how and when someone died, when they were buried…sometimes the Walking Encyclopedia he called a head came in damn useful. But at other times it was a downright nuisance, like when Sammy had been younger, had wanted to know where their Dad was always going and why they didn't have a mommy and why he and Dean were always living out of motel rooms and not in big beautiful white houses like the rest of humanity did. Dean would always beg him to stop; to just keep innocent a little while longer…But Sam's curiosity would never be sated until he got the answers he craved.

And so, when Sam woke up from his confrontation with Lucifer, he wasn't exactly afraid. Well, he was, but that damned wonder kept it at bay for the time being. _What would, _he thought, _make me say 'Yes' to him? What would he dangle over my head that would persuade me to break for him? _

That is why Sam went back to sleep, deep in thought. Memories of Hell mixed with half-forgotten images of people he knew, people he'd meant somewhere; a petite blonde girl and her mother. Hunters, the both of them. Someone in a wheelchair. The images were interspersed with flashes of black wings and bright, pulsating light and a cocky smirk and candy bars.

_Why would I say 'Yes'?_

_That's the million dollar question, isn't it Sammy?_

"_How many strikes does it take to get to the centre of a Winchester?"_

At the return of the demon bitch's voice he woke again, in a cold sweat and shaking. Dean was there to comfort him as he always had, always would if Sam had anything to say about it. And he knew…Sam knew what would make him say 'Yes'. He couldn't help the feeling of guilt that seemed to encase his entire being, crush his soul under the weight of the truth of it.

_I'm asking it the wrong way…_

"Dean…I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

"Sammy, what's wrong? What is it?" His older brother's voice was tight with worry, his tight grip on his little brother's torso never once loosening as another shudder tore through Sam, until he thought his very soul was shivering from the dread coiled into a tight knot in the pit of his stomach.

_I'm asking it the wrong way…_

_I would never say 'Yes' voluntarily. That must mean I'm forced. What could they take away?_

_My brother? They already have. I would find a way to get him back. My family? What family? Everyone around me dies anyway. What could the demons do? Nothing…they didn't have to do anything…_

_I did it all myself._

--

"I can't stay here."

"Sam…" Dean stood, frowning at his brother from where he was on the hospital bed. Stubbornly Sam refused to meet his eyes, jaw set as he idly pushed around some mashed potatoes on his plate. "You still have to recover. Even if you've been healing for four months, we have time, man. Just…calm down a little bit, okay?"

Sam knew what was making Dean speak that way; he'd heard it the same when he'd woken up after being stabbed. After dying. Of course he hadn't remember that at the time, and had to find out from the man who stabbed him, but that was Dean's I'm-so-weak-with-relief-(though-damned-if-I-admit-it)-I've-got-you-back-but-you-mess-it-up-I-will-kill-you voice. Yeah…Sam had named that voice.

And again Sam shook his head, rejected his brother's plea for rest. "I don't have time. I have to figure out the Tribute. I've been…while you were sleeping; I've been doing some research." He bit the inside of his cheek, chancing a look at Dean from under his bangs. His brother's expression was stoic, one of resignation and anger. "I need to go to Detroit. I think there's a physic there who will be able to help me."

The change was sudden and significant. Dean's pose went ramrod straight, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed as he took in his baby brother. Sam couldn't image what had come over Dean, but the older Winchester was too lost in the future to notice the look of worry Sam gave him;

--

"_Heavy-weight show-down in Detroit. From what I hear Sam didn't make it."_

"_He's dead?"_

_--_

"_Sam didn't die in Detroit. He said 'Yes'."_

"'_Yes?' As in…?"_

"_That's right. The big 'Yes'. After that the Angels took off, all of them."_

_--_

"_Why don't you do it? Say 'Yes' to Michael?"_

"_You don't think I've tried? I shouted 'Yes' until I was blue in the face! The Angels aren't listening!"_

_--_

"Dean?" A gentle touch on the back of his hand brought him back to the here and now. "Are you alright?"

He couldn't stand it; the wary fear and innocence in his brother's voice and the worry he saw in those hazel eyes he had come to know so well, had come to depend upon. Sam was Dean's reason to keep alive, to keep fighting to the very end and to keep Hunting. He had to keep this World safe for _someone_, and even at his darkest time it had always been Sam, his little brother, his Sammy.

He'd be damned if he fought so hard to lose that now. Again. Permanently.

Dean had never told anyone about what he'd seen in the future. Not Sam, not Cas, not Bobby. No one, and he knew what would happen if Sam went to Detroit. He was disillusioned enough now that he didn't think his presence alone would save his little brother. Not with Lucifer and demons and this damned Tribute hanging over their heads. Sam would say 'Yes' if he went to Detroit. So he could never go to Detroit. Simple as.

But if Sam questioned why Dean was telling him this…would the Hunter answer his brother truthfully? Would Sam believe him? Would he be upset at Dean's lack of faith? Questions, simple and torturing and many floated around his head, attacking with all the persistence and mindlessness of hornets.

He still hadn't answered, and Sam was awaiting a response. With a heavy sigh Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, sitting down on the bed next to his brother. Sam shifted so that there was more room for him and he was sitting more upright, waiting for his brother to talk, tense but ready.

"After you left," Dean began, clearing his throat when the words came out raspy and low, "I mean…before, right after raising Lucifer and when you called me to tell me you were his vessel…Zach showed up and dropped me into the year twenty-fourteen." Green eyes flicked up to meet wide hazel ones, and quickly Sam made a gesture to keep going. "It was awful. Croatoan had come back full force and had perfected the disease; almost everyone we knew was dead or gone, and I…" Dean stopped again. Damn it this was harder than his confession of what he'd done in Hell. At least then…well, what was the difference? Hell changes a man. So does Hell on Earth.

"I'd managed to become leader of some survivors. Chuck was there, and Cas and a few other people that I must have met along the way. I was…" He laughed shortly. "I was a real dick." In the corner of his eyes, the tips of Sam's lips lifted in a half-smile. "I was so…cold towards everyone…and when Zach dumped me there he found me. I found me, I guess, and he took me to see…We'd gotten the Colt, and we were going to go kill the Devil. I guess I didn't know that wouldn't work at the time…and I…I actually sent people in to be bait while I took myself round back. And…damn it, he told me you were dead, Sammy. I thought that I had abandoned you and hadn't spoken to you for five years, and you died thinking I hated you." Tears rimmed the backs of his eyes but he fought them back, unwilling to let them fall until he'd finished his story.

"But then he told me…before we were set to go. He said 'I want you to see our brother.' I thought you were dead, but you weren't. You had said 'Yes'." Sam stiffened in his bed next to him, but Dean continued; "I let Cas and Chuck and Risa die and all for the sake of planting a bullet between the Devil's eyes. But I didn't make it. The future me didn't make it. He was wearing your meat and I had to watch you kill me, had to talk to him like he was you…"

The brothers met each other's eyes again, Sam's filled with pain, with guilt at something he hadn't even done yet. Sure, they didn't think that Sam would ever say 'Yes', but Sam had just remember what would make him say it. He knew…he remembered…he knew that he would say 'Yes' if he didn't go to Detroit.

"What does this have to do with anything?" Sam asked, once he was confident his voice wouldn't shake when he spoke.

Dean swallowed, biting his lip to fight off the tears and took another deep, shuddering breath. "You were in Detroit when you said it, Sammy."

--

_Damned if you do, damned if you don't…Always the same, isn't it Sammy?_

_You drink demon blood, you become a monster, you raise the Devil, and you bring on the Apocalypse. Don't and everyone you love dies. Fate just adores throwing those little catch twenty-twos at you, doesn't he?_

--

The Witness was still as it watched onwards. Some call it a ghost, some call it a Demigod…it doesn't care what it is called, just so long as it is and ever will be. It knew, with a tilt of its head and a narrowing of its eyes that what it was bearing witness to was important. This was a turning point for the brothers. Would one trust, would the other listen? They both had secrets and one of them wouldn't live for all those secrets to be told. Such a shame. Life is a shame; people spend all of theirs trying to find the meaning, and once they do it is too late to share or experience.

It shook its dark, cloaked head. From beneath the hood shone two irises the colour of the moon; bright and cold and silver. Such a shame.

--

Sam said nothing, had to wait until the thundering of shock in his ears died down to the point where he could hear his heart, hear Dean's breathing and the regular beeping of machines outside his room. Finally he drew away, so that he was able to look his brother dead in the eye.

"I won't say 'Yes' to Lucifer, Dean," he said, voice hard. Defensive. Like a telepath Dean knew what his brother was thinking;

"I never said you would, Sam. Never. I've always believed you would be able to keep saying 'No', like I am, like I did…will do, whatever. But the point is…I really just don't want it to ever have to come to that, you know? I don't want it to turn out that Lucifer has an Ace up his sleeve we didn't even realize was missing from the deck."

--

_He already does, Dean. You will never save your brother._

The Witness was practically shaking with rage, trying to shout though it had no mouth. The job was not to talk, but to listen and watch. It was never given a means for communication. Still, that didn't stop it from shouting as loudly as it could on the mental plane, hoping that Dean or Sam would be able to hear, to avoid. The Witness works for the Angels, but it is not a cold being; far from it. The Witness is one of the Fallen, but it is not a Devil Worshipper either.

Some like to refer to the Witness as a tradesman; it will work for the highest bidder. But what could an entity possibly want? Everyone has a price, what is The Witness'? No one will ever know, or so it's said. No one cares enough to ask it.

_Sam said 'Yes' the minute he called Gabriel._


	8. Chapter 8

**Mirror Image**

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**More Than Strangers**

**WARNING: Swearing (A lot), Slight reference to rape and Bloodshed**

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It was too quiet. That was Dean's first thought. He hadn't been able to keep up the argument with Sam after he insisted on going to Detroit. Seemed Sam needed time to think, and Dean was willing to give them that. Well, he wasn't, but truth was he was worried. It was too quiet.

Far too quiet.

"What the Hell is going on, Cas?" he asked, frustration evident as he ran a hand through his hair, biting his lower lip harshly as he paced up and down the waiting room length. "This place should be crawling with demons by now, all eager to drag Sam kicking and screaming back into the Pit. That's what they did with me."

--

_In his dreams, Sam was troubled. Were Angels the only ones that could walk into a person's mind? Influence their thoughts and what they see and experience, as Cas had done with Dean, and Lucifer with Sam?_

_No. If a demon is powerful enough, he or she can enter the mind, twist it. Some of them thrive off of it, it's how they live, how they get their kicks. By slowly driving a person insane. Sam had already resigned himself to the fact that he would say 'Yes'. He already knew it. If he didn't solve the Tribute…he wouldn't be thrown back into Hell. That was a lie. No…he would _lose_, and that was so much worse because he could _remember_, now. His deal with Gabriel…if he lost the Deal then he would say 'Yes'. That's how it worked. That's how it would all go down._

_Nothing could force Sam to say 'Yes', except himself. They could torture Dean thousands of times over, they could kill him and he would continue to scream at Sam from beyond the grave to stay strong, to keep it up and Sam would obey, because he was a good little brother and he worshiped Dean and that's what was going to happen. He ignored Dean's dying wish before. He wasn't going to do the same thing again._

_But he was being attacked from all sides. Humans, Angels, even Demons now. If a demon is powerful enough it can enter a human's mind and influence what they see, feel. A personal friend of Sammy's was going to pay him a visit._

_--_

"Ah…little Sammy…we meet again."

"It's Sam, for the last fucking time."

"Always so defiant…I remember that. Beautiful…"

Clammy fingers traced the sharp outline of cheekbone and jaw. Sam moved to turn his head away, but the other was stubborn and followed up on his touch, not letting go of the contact with the Winchester's soft, golden skin until he was damn good and ready.

Sam closed his eyes, his entire body quivering with a mixture of fear, repressed anger, and – what the demon found most pleasing and unnerving – a well of power, immense and swirling in the boy's soul like the red spot of Jupiter, right over his heart. Black enveloped any hazel essence that came near it, aggravated and pulsing in the demon's presence along with his frantic heartbeat.

"Do you remember, Sammy? Do you remember all the good times we had together?"

Such a stupid question, as aggravating as it was superfluous. Of course Sam remembered. No one ever forgets things like that…Flesh tearing from the inside out. Blood made the going easier, but not easy enough. They do _everything _to a person in Hell, torture them with their most secret desires and their most debilitating fears until all that is left is the semblance of a shattered soul. Either they break or they don't. Some are never given the chance.

Some never have to think about it.

"I'll admit it, I missed you. Your body, your _soul…" _The demon's mouth was already watering as he stepped his body closer, ever closer to the young Winchester until barely a breath of air was between them. Sam still kept his head facing away, unable to look into his tormentor's eyes. Granted, different eyes, a different body, but still the same. Still black and soulless and endless as the night sky, with no promise of stars or hope or reason or _anything. _"You were a beautiful little plaything. How you writhed beneath my blade, or my body…" A cruel smile twisted the demon's features as Sam shuddered, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He could feel it, see it as clearly as the pulsing of darkness inside the boy; he was trying to reach for his power, but at the same time waiting, stalling.

For what?

Who cares?

"And now it's just you and me again…" The demon reached behind him, drawing out a wickedly curved blade from seemingly nowhere. Sam knew that blade; it had been made the same way as Ruby's knife. It was meant to bring extra pain to the souls of the damned. Holding it was physical pain for demons, but to a sadist like this one that didn't really seem to enter into anything. The demon raised his arm, touching the blunt edge to Sam's cheek with the startling gentleness of a lover. Sam choked on a cry as the skin of his soul began to burn.

The demon's eyes dropped for a moment. To an observer it would seem like he was just staring at Sam's shirt, but a demon's eyes go deeper, much deeper. Slowly he turned the blade to the tip dug into skin, and the pain sharpened for the hunter like the contrast between lying on a bed of nails and being stabbed by a blade. He drew the tip down, loving the soft ripping sound of skin and muscle parting and giving way to _blood_. Sweet, beautiful blood and _Lucifer _he wanted to taste it. Wanted to taste the blood of a soul that was his master's Chosen one. He had forgotten it since Sammy spent so much time with him in Hell.

The vessel was too short, but the demon was powerful. With barely a thought he forced Sam back into a wall, mindful of the Devil's Trap that had been drawn clumsily onto the ceiling. Either someone had forgotten his hunting lessons or Sam had been honestly freaked out at Dean's suggestion of summoning a demon _here_.

Especially this particular one.

Black eyes flickered over his vision for just a moment as Sam groaned, dull pain throbbing from his spine outward at the collision. He tried feeling behind his head, fairly certain he'd cracked his skull of something, but of course with the demon holding his still he didn't move. His eyes snapped open, realizing his vulnerability and he narrowed beautiful hazel eyes at the demon, darkened by fear and rage as he struggled fruitlessly against the hold.

The demon smiled, cocking his head to one side as though studying a rare form of art. That's how all souls were seen by demons; beautiful, shining things that would look better with just a touch of black, a touch of red here and there until they were completely and utterly corrupted. No use to Heaven now, and another soldier just waiting to be recruited.

His thoughts were interrupted as his heightened hearing picked up a faint sound; a drop of dull liquid onto duller cloth, and like lasers his eyes zeroed in on the crimson rivulet running down the side of Sam's face, steaming gently as though he were a demon that touched iron. He smirked, advancing as he remembered the reason he'd touched the blade to Sam's skin in the first place.

Sam's eyes widen with recognition of the look, _that fucking look_, which he's all too familiar with, courtesy of his intimate dealings with demons. His struggling begins anew, twice as frenzied but just as fruitless and soon he's out of breath, panting into the stale air as the demon slightly presses his body up against Sam's eyes still intent on the trail of blood. Sam knows what will happen if the tongue tastes; he knows it all too well. He's felt it before.

There's just something…_primal _about blood-drinking. It's intimate and disgusting but it's so…_empowering_ at the same time. He can't explain it, any more than he could describe to a deaf person what sound is like. The burst of flavor on the tongue accompanied with moans of the victim be they willing or not…there's no replacement. It was all too easy to confuse regular lust with bloodlust and merge the two into one violent maelstrom that often enough Ruby had been the victim of with Sam. Now the demon was inches away from the blood dripping down his cheek and Sam was the only warm body within a mile.

He was so fucked.

"Please…no…" Begging, fucking whimpering for mercy and he tries to turn his head away, to break the gaze, break the lust he sees pooling behind the ochre of the demon's eyes. What would Dean think of him now? What would his father think, his mother? Ashamed, begging a _demon _for mercy. Should have long ago realized that amounts to a fat sack of _nothing_. "…Don't…"

"Aww…but Sammy…" The bastard is _smirking _at him, grabbing a hold of his chin in a fierce grip of his hand, forcing their eyes to meet for a brief instant. His smirk widens at the obvious fear and the _certainty _he can see in the Winchester's eyes. "And here I thought it would be a surprise…" He chuckled very slightly before turning Sam's hand yet again, and Sam's eyes closed as the demon's tongue trailed up the side of his face, gathering some of the blood there and cleaning up the surgical wound with soft, kittenish licks. Eventually there was nothing more to be had short of sucking the blood out and so the demon closed his mouth, moan slamming against the backs of his lips at the burst of _flavor_ he was experiencing.

Winchester boys don't go half-way, certainly.

Sam could feel when the demon began to respond to the blood, by the slight shift forward of his body, the press of hips against his and the deep pants that signaled his arousal. Sam gritted his teeth, eyes tightly closed and head turned away – like he had a choice – as he awaited the moment when savoring came to desire again.

He barely registered it when it did.

One moment he was against the wall, waiting on baited breath and quivering with pent-up emotion, barely being restrained between an iron wall of will and terror, and then the next he was slammed against the harsh cement of the warehouse floor, pain radiating from head and back before the demon's body was over him, low purr-growls rolling from between bared teeth and curled lips. He brought the blade to Sam's cheek again, digging the tip in again and relishing in the choked half-cry, forced short as Sam was forced to close his mouth lest the blood trickle into his mouth and he experience the same sort of lust.

Where the fuck was Dean when he needed him? Or Castiel? _Someone?_

The demon's lips curled up into a smirk as he leaned down, tongue running along Sam's bottom lip as it was wetted with his own blood. Sam's lips kept stubbornly shut against the demon's onslaught, but he would not be deterred; he licked around those sinful, tempting lips, cleaning away wet broken skin with long strokes of his tongue, the purr rumbling like the world's most giant, most contented cat. The demon delighted in the slight shift of the hunter's body beneath him, trying desperately to throw the other man off of him but unable to draw enough air through his nose to compensate for his drained muscles. Eventually he could take it no longer, and his mouth opened in a soundless gasp which the demon took full advantage of, his iron-slick tongue driving into Sam's mouth with harsh brutality; hard, fast, possessive, and Sam felt the taste of his own blood explode in his mouth like an orgasm. His body arched up for an entirely different reason, logic flying from his mind like a bat out of hell as he recklessly met demon move for move with his tongue, his lips closing around the demon's own tongue as though he were trying to suck the very taste from him. Perhaps he was.

There is no logic when it comes to Sam Winchester and blood. There just isn't.

Dean doesn't understand, he never can. But there's nothing _wrong_ with enjoying _life_. That's what blood-drinking is; it's relishing the gift of life and the vitality of a pulse and the _beauty _of creation in a single drop of red on lips, on teeth, to be tasted and to be savored and to be fucking _worshiped _with all the frenzy of religion and obsession.

The demon smirked, feeling when Sam gave into the desire of the blood and he pulled his lips away, sitting so that he was straddling Sam's body. The hunter gave a beautiful, needy little whine when the prize was denied him and the demon shushed him, like a skittish colt or a frightened child. He traced the back of his hand along the still-lightly-bleeding cut on Sam's cheek from his blade, coating his fingertip with the crimson and trailed it along Sam's lip before he applied gentle pressure to the bottom one, forcing Sam's mouth open again. Not that the Winchester would have protested; he could smell the iron under his nose and practically feel the thrum of power from the demon, coiled and tense and ready to be unleashed. The primal tension of the room thickened and clouded into tunnel vision as he drew the demon's finger in as far as it could go, cheeks hollowing as he sucked as hard as he could, wanting to practically _inhale _all the blood on the finger and more. With each small drip of blood into Sam's body he felt the energy thrum, pulse, beat like a flying heart and he arched up again, pressing his hips to the demons, feeling the thick hard cock against his thigh. A dark moan echoed from both of their mouths as Sam put his tongue to use around the demon's finger, sucking, running his tongue along the tip like he would the head of a cock, sucking as hard as he could, begging with his eyes for more, hazel completely gone in both his eyes and his soul, completely encased in black.

'_You're mine now, Sammy boy.'_

"So fucking beautiful…just like old times, isn't it Sammy?" There was the briefest flash of anger in Sam's eyes, a clench of fists but it was gone and swallowed in a low moan as Sam was rewarded with another flick of finger on skin, another drop of blood to drink down.

At least it was his own, and he wouldn't suffer from withdrawal.

Not that the demon would care, but in the back of Sam's mind, the voice that was screaming about w_rong _and _stop _and _disgusting _and _monster_, seemed to quiet just a little, settling to background noise, drowned by the roaring of Sam's pulse in his ears and the hammering of the blackness of his soul against his ribcage.

The demon had Sam right where he wanted him. No one to interrupt them, no one to get in the way of him and his plaything. It was time to enjoy himself and take things nice and slow now.

"You want more, Sammy, love?" he purred, bending forward, body curved like a python and lips hovering just an inch from Sam's own. He slid his finger from between Sam's lush lips and smiled, fingers curling around the handle of his blade. The human gave a soft, needy whine, his eyes wide and pleading with the demon when his lust-addled brain refused to form words. "Come on, beautiful, you're going to have to give me something here. I'm not a mind reader, you know." A sick chuckle, lips curling back to bare his teeth and Sam's eyes locked onto the redness he could see there, staining the teeth and promising sweet, sweet nectar below. Without a word he surged upwards, sealing his mouth over the demon's with a vengeance born of desperation. His hands knotted in the demon's thick chestnut hair, forcing their lips to stay together as Sam plundered the mouth. The demon was taken by surprise by the ferocity of Sam's actions, but it quickly turned to a snarling kind of pleasure; he would enjoy making this man beg; break, without actually being in Hell.

How his brethren had never thought of this as a torture method astounded him, but then again it hadn't been blindingly obvious at the time. Sam's time in Hell was about him saying 'Yes', not about giving him what he wanted, what he craved.

--

_This is wrong, so wrong, man. I thought you'd stopped this. I thought we were going to get the fuck away with Dean and Cas and stop the Devil and fucking _get away_._

_Grow up._

_Be strong._

_Come on, Sam!_

_Black wings, large and strong and safe enveloped him. He could remember the searing pain in his heart, his heartbeat growing and becoming bolder with every thump and suddenly there was white. Cleansing, purifying. What he was doing hit him full-on in the chest, knocked the wind out of him. For the briefest of seconds, his soul burst with colour, with the original hazel, and in the centre of it all pulsed a slim worm of white._

_--_

Something was happening. Something wrong was happening. Sam's movements were slowing, becoming much more deliberate with every movement as his hands shifted from the demon's head, running down the man's spine as Sam sat up, and so the demon was straddling his lap. Before the creature could react Sam was pushing him away with force, hand outstretched as he reached deep inside of himself. His soul was pulsating with light, almost blinding the demon as he cried out, shielding his eyes and staggered back. All of a sudden the light was gone.

The demon snarled, tried to step forward, to teach the brat a lesson, but he ran into an invisible barrier. He looked up, and there was a second Devil's Trap, actually _carved _into the ceiling. It had been there a long time, or so it seemed….or little Sammy had learned how to influence his dreams.

The demon smirked, planting his eyes on Sam's shaking frame. He could sense the desire still pulsing in the human's form, his soul obviously yearning for another taste of the lifeblood running from the jagged cut the demon had dealt that ran along his face, but he was resisting. Barely.

"You can't run from me forever, Sammy boy. I will find you."

Sam's hand was shaking as he lowered it, taking a deep breath and ignoring the way the scent of blood hit his nose, making him want to shudder and lick his lips all at once. When he opened his eyes again they were clear, cold, hard.

"I think I'd like to wake up now."

--

"Sammy? _Sammy? _Talk to me, man!"

Sam awoke to strong arms pinning him down, shaking him and someone in his face, yelling like a madman. Without thinking he shoved backwards, trying to get away but there were pillows behind him, a hard-soft bed that prevented his movement, and so instead of moving backwards he pushed the other being away. Distance and calm rushed into him and sharpened the image into Dean. He was back in the hospital, suddenly, the black words of his Tribute still glaring at him from the opposite wall, his brother looking at him with concern and borderline panic and Castiel standing in one corner, stoic as ever. For some reason Sam shivered, and had no idea why.

"Sam, are you alright? You scared the crap out of me."

Sam frowned, head cocked to one side. "Why?" he asked, still feeling a little shaky from the dream, dream-walk, whatever the hell that had just been with the demon…_Damien…_Sam shuddered at the name, the creature he remembered all too well.

_Just a dream, Sam. Get a grip on yourself._

He swallowed, and froze. He tasted blood. More importantly he _tasted_ blood…the exciting silken flavor of iron and rust and tang and _life_. He ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, searching, questing for more as he half-stared at Dean, and having no idea what was going on. Well…lie, he _did _know, but he wasn't going to share with Dean exactly what he'd been dreaming about before he'd been shaken awake, had fought his way out of his own reality with the help of some creature with black wings and the shape of a bright cloud. He then became aware that Dean was talking to him, saying something, and he forced himself _not _to think of the delicious red that coated the inside of his mouth, to _not _dwell on just what exactly could have happened in that dream had he not fought back, and to _not _wish like Hell he hadn't stopped it, had kept going until he satisfied with the craving for blood.

Finally, perhaps realizing he wasn't listening, not really, Dean stopped and cocked his head to one side, studying his younger brother. "Hey, Sam, you with me?"

"I'm fine," Sam snapped in reply, pushing himself to his feet and glad that the hospital had consented to letting him wear his own clothes again, since his near-psychotic breakdown, which he didn't realize had been almost four days ago. He'd been sleeping ever since. Another four days gone…

And he was no closer to getting himself out of the shithole he'd dug for himself.

* * *

**Author's Note: Alright, for those of you who don't know what the hell just happened ('cause I'm freaking writing it and I'm slightly confused) here's the low down: Sam remembers through his crazy dreams little pieces of his Deal. He recognizes Dean as his brother, is still a little skittish, and Damien was Sam's prime torturer in Hell. Sam still doesn't know who pulled him out of Hell and he doesn't recognized Castiel and Gabriel as Angels except in his dreams. He hardly remembers the heightened state of awareness in his dreams, where he knows everything. The Witness is coming back; it's an important character, so...yeah.**

**Hope I haven't lost your interest. Review if you still want to see where this story's going! I have to admit that I changed the original ending of this storyline; it's not nearly as easily wrapped up as I originally intended. It's not going to end very happily, people. Warning you now.**

**This was not beta'd.  
**

**Much loves,**

**HigherMagic x**


	9. Chapter 9

**Mirror Image

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**The Witness

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Sam was sitting in the middle of a clearing. It looked weirdly familiar to him, but for the life of him he couldn't place where he'd seen it before. Above him there were the loud cries of eagles, and when he looked up he could see their dark silhouettes, giant birds momentarily blotting out the stars as they flew overhead. The cries seemed faintly ominous, and the young hunter shivered as he looked around, trying to get his bearings.

A car was parked nearby. It was black, a '67 Chevy Impala. Maybe it was his, but it didn't feel like his. He got the faint sense of Dean, jolting at his memory when he looked at the car. When no images leapt to his mind, he shrugged and turned away again. He'd learned long ago to stop trying to get his mind to remember things that he obviously wasn't going to remember.

He knew someone was here with him, and so swallowing his fear and the dread gathering in his stomach by the cries of the birds, he cleared his throat and called out; "Show yourself!" On the surface, he looked completely calm; the Hunter his father had trained him to be. On the inside his stomach was tied in knots. "Come on!" he yelled again, when no face appeared, and wishing for all get-out he had a weapon.

There was a sharp pain right above his heart, strong enough to make him gasp and send him to his knees. He planted a hand over his chest, could feel the burn of a small handprint, totally eclipsed by his own, and he pulled his shirt away to see the print burning white-hot and bright, pure white light. He gasped again, confused as to what was happening, when two feet stepped into his field of vision. They were bare, and the owner was wearing jeans. When Sam looked up he was looking into the face of the man who had come to talk to him shortly after he'd first woken up from Hell. Sam didn't know that this was Gabriel, the Archangel who'd sent him under in the first place, but he would soon find out.

"What's happening to me?" he asked, desperate when he looked up into the impassive face of the man.

Gabriel smiled slightly, kneeling down to be at eye-level with Sam. He placed a hand over Sam's heart and immediately the pain dulled as a part of Gabriel's soul united with the rest of the Angel. Sam was left feeling cold and empty when the white faded from his body, breathing heavily at the loss.

"Nothing, now," Gabriel replied, staring at Sam seriously. "Do you know who I am, Sam?"

"You came to…to talk to me after I woke up…I didn't remember then and I don't remember now. You obviously know something. Tell me!"

"I can't. Terms and conditions apply, kiddo," Gabriel said his voice almost sad. "Look, Sam, I can't help you, but that psychic in Detroit can. You need to go find her and she'll be able to tell you." Gabriel stood up again, beginning to take a few steps back from Sam. The further he crept away the closer the cries of the eagles came. Those beasts that had sent him under. He cried out desperately for the man to come back, and a name leapt to his lips in his panic;

"Gabriel! Don't leave me here!"

The Archangel stopped, turned around and looked in surprise to Sam. He bit his lip, a look impossible to decipher crossing his features for a moment before he smiled again, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I can't. You dug your own grave now lay in it."

"You son of a bitch!"

"Words hurt, you know."

"Go to Hell."

--

When Dean walked back into his brother's hospital room, carrying two steaming cups of coffee, Sam was just pulling on his shirt and jacket, having woken up, full of a frenzy to get out of dodge, so that he could find that damned psychic and _remember. _This memory loss was killing him. He looked over at Dean, and watched with a strange sadness as his brother's entire demeanor seemed to change; at once Dean was wary, remembering Sam's recent breakdowns, how he'd fought so hard to get away, the conviction his little brother had to get to Detroit…Carefully Dean set the cups down. An insignificant gesture, but it freed up his hands for use and Sam knew that Dean would be ready to take him down if necessary.

"Hey Sammy…" he said, voice hesitant as he took a step forward. "What you doing?"

"Getting dressed, Matlock," Sam replied shortly, running his hands through his hair as he exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes. "I don't want to be wearing that damned hospital gown when the demons start showing up." _And I need to find Gabriel._

"Why do you think demons will start showing up?"

"Because it makes sense, Dean!" Sam growled, exasperation making his voice harder than he'd intended, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "I escaped from _Hell. Something _pulled me out and the demons aren't going to be happy about it."

"It's okay, Sam. We're protected. Cas won't let the demons get you."

"Cas?" Sam blinked at his brother, who'd taken another step forward. His brow furrowed for a moment in concentration, and Sam bit his bottom lip, trying to remember and gave up with the memory invoked by that name didn't lend itself to him. He shrugged. "If you're talking about that tax accountant guy who's stalking you, I don't think he'd be much help in a fight."

"Cas is an _angel_, Sam," Dean snapped, annoyed at Sam's dismissal of his angel. Then again, apparently Sam's brain had gone under some sort of toxic cleaning and he didn't remember jack-shit. Immediately Sam's posture stiffened for a brief second, before he fell to sit on his hospital bed. He looked pale and sick, and Dean immediately rushed forward, in full 'big brother' mode. "Hey, Sammy, you alright?"

"Angels…_Angels…_" Sam's hand went over his own heart, frowning when he felt nothing there. Not even the handprint remained. "Son of a bitch….Gabriel…Dean." Sam looked up, other hand knotting suddenly in the front of his brother's t-shirt. "Was Gabriel here? Did he show up?"

"What? No. I sent him away. I couldn't take the bastard screwing with us anymore. He's a Class A dick, Sammy. We don't need him."

"But he pulled me topside! He's the reason I went under in the first place! And if we don't find him…" Sam trailed off again, frowning heavily, desperately trying to listen to what his blocked mind was trying to tell him. This wasn't right; surely he would have remembered something by now, unless…Unless something was blocking him from remembering. "Oh…Jesus…it all makes _sense…_"

"What makes sense, Sammy? You lost me at 'Hello'," Dean said, genuinely freaking out over his brother. Sam stood up again, shaking his head heavily, eyes focused on nothing as he seemingly looked out of the window into the road beyond. God…what had he done? "Sam?"

"Listen to me, Dean. In less than four months I'm going to have to say 'Yes'," Sam said, his voice a monotone. He turned around before Dean could voice his protest, gripping his brother's shoulders violently, and ignoring the pain flashing through his hand when he touched the mark on Dean's shoulder. He flinched but didn't pull his hand away, despite the lances of fire shooting up his arm. "Listen to me, it was the Deal. It all makes sense, now! If I say 'Yes'…then you have to say 'Yes'…and the only reason they're not letting me remember is so that I won't be able to solve the Tribute, and if that happens then we're all screwed to Hell anyway…Oh God…" He let go of Dean, knotting his hands in his hair and shaking his head from side to side as he took a step back. He hit the wall and slid down to the floor. "There's no way to stop it."

_I win, so I win._

"No, Sammy, no. You're not going to say 'Yes'. They can't make you say it."

"It was part of the Deal, Dean!"

"But they can't _make _you say it! They cannot physically make you say the word, alright? You're going to be fine."

"But if I fail to hold up my end of the bargain…we both go to Hell, Dean…and I don't know how long I can last again. I can't do it again, Dean…I barely held on for that long and I can't go back. I don't want to go back to Hell, Dean!" Sam cried, tears rolling down his cheeks, uncontrollable and unstoppable. The younger Winchester was shuddering through his tears even as Dean came up beside him and wrapped his arms around his younger brother. Still the sobs didn't stop; Dean's comfort felt empty now with the weight of despair crushing Sam. "Dean…I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry, I thought I could do it…"

"It's alright, Sammy," Dean said, stroking a hand over Sam's sweat-dampened hair. He held his brother closer and continued to mutter nonsensical things into his little brother's ear until Sam stopped shaking. "It's alright, you hear me? We're gonna be fine. We're gonna get through this."

"We can't, Dean…We can't."

"Trust me, Sammy. I've never let you down before, have I?"

And Sam kept mercifully silent, biting his lower lip as he tried to cease his trembling, to no real avail. They were silent and shaking until Castiel walked into the room, a harsh demand on his lips to speak to Dean alone.

--

The Witness screamed in anger, picking up a non-corporeal table and throwing it across the room, shattering a wall that didn't really exist. The Witness isn't allowed to affect anything; it does as it's meant to, which is to watch the dealings of Angels, to make sure each party held up their end of the bargain. Frustration unlike anything the entity had felt was washing through it in waves, for whilst Gabriel wasn't exactly _cheating_…he wasn't playing nice either. The entity growled, vanishing from the hospital room and leaving the two broken Winchesters, in favor of finding what wasn't exactly his brother…was more his nephew, or cousin…something like that.

_Gabriel…_ The Witness reappeared several states away. Gabriel was busy amusing himself torturing people who said they didn't believe in God and the story of Moses by making them suffer their own individual version of the Seven Plagues. The Archangel turned around as the Witness appeared, a small smirk on his face – he knew the creature couldn't harm him. The Witness existed on a plane entirely different from Angels, from humans, and the only way a Witness could cross the barriers was if someone violated a term of their contract. Gabriel was untouchable, his secrets guarded by Sam's own obstinate personality.

_You must stop this, _the Witness screamed at him, eyes dark and clouded without having a mouth to speak the actual words. Still, the Archangel understood him, and shrugged without a care.

"Why should I stop anything? The kid dug his own grave."

_You are playing with fire. This will end in your demise. _Gabriel laughed; that cocky, nothing-can-touch-me, egotistical laugh that told the Witness his warning was going unheeded. _I mean it, Gabriel. The future does not end well for you._

"Well, I guess I'll just have to enjoy the ride," he replied, still smirking and he turned away, signaling that the conversation was essentially over, since Angels have no real bearing over the Witness' activity. The Angels couldn't affect the Witness, just as it couldn't affect either of them. The entity growled softly, disappearing without a word, a soft huff of frustration and resignation on the wind.

* * *

**Author's Note: I remember where this is going again! Yay! And it does have a happy ending! Yay! Don't you just love it when that happens? The Plot Bunnies seem to have left me alone for now, but I've also been loosing my Writer's Block Cats. Woohoo.**

**This was not beta'd.  
**

**Review if you love,**

**HigherMagic x**


	10. Chapter 10

**Mirror Image

* * *

**

**Ticking Time Bomb

* * *

**

The Winchesters knew they were both in deep trouble when the psychiatrist walked into Sam's room. Dean stood from his brother's bedside – Sam had fallen asleep, exhausted, after the revelation that he would have to say 'Yes' come the end of the forty days – positioning himself carefully between the doctor and his brother. Always the protector.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, and he really _did _try to keep the hostility out of his voice. He did. Just because he failed miserably…Yeah.

The man smiled, and there was something familiar about it. At once Dean was on high-alert. He'd never seen the face before, but he'd learned well enough the art of recognizing a consciousness in another body – Hell, that demon bitch Meg had burned through, like, seven bodies, right? Dean's eyes narrowed at the doctor but he said nothing, merely sat back down as the guy approached the foot of Sam's bed, eyes alighting on his brother. Yeah, there was definitely something Dean didn't like about that look – it was like a predator, but not really…more like a predator who knows his prey isn't going anywhere.

It made Dean's skin crawl.

"Your brother has been admitted to my care. I'm not allowed to discuss why with family members," he replied, an easy smile on his face.

"Look, Doctor…" Dean's eyes flickered to the nametag, "Manning, my brother is _fine _with a capital _Fine. _He doesn't need your 'Get inside his head' crap. What he needs is to leave. I'll discharge him myself if necessary. Is there anything physically wrong with him?"

"Well, no, but -."

"Then we're leaving. As soon as he wakes up." Dean had gone into full-on Hunter, 'Don't mess with me' mode, fixing the doctor with his best glare. To his credit, the man didn't visibly falter – which only leant to Dean's theory that the guy wasn't human – but he did smile and nod at Dean.

"Very well, Mister Winchester. If you insist. I'll go get the forms now." As soon as he was out of the room, Dean made sure the salt lines were checked. Okay…they were intact. The guy wasn't a demon.

He flipped open his phone, speed dial four, as he gently shook Sam's shoulder to get him to wake up. "Hey, buddy, come on we're leaving," he murmured when Sam blinked awake sleepily. Dean was glad to see that he was at least looking better, but there was something in his eyes that the elder Winchester definitely did not like.

It was almost a minute before Castiel appeared in the room with the cutting sound of wings. "Hello Dean."

"What took you so long?" the Hunter demanded, in the middle of helping Sam up from his bed. He flipped the phone closed and aimed a half-glare at the angel. He had to do a double-take.

Castiel looked like _hell_. The guy had been taking a serious beating before he showed up, that much was clear. "Dude, what happened to you?" he asked, even as Castiel stumbled a little into a chair, obviously wounded. The Hunter cursed, torn between helping his brother and helping his angel. Sam laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly and smiled at him, tilting his head towards Castiel. Dean took the hint and moved over to sit by the angel. "Are you hurt?"

"Nothing I cannot heal," Cas replied tiredly, sitting up as he scrubbed a hand over his face in an action that Dean definitely recognized – he'd done it many times before. The angel ran his hands through his vessel's hair, sighing heavily and then sat back up. "Gabriel is protecting himself very well. He wants to talk to Sam."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Castiel glared at Dean, with enough force that Dean was pointedly reminded of Castiel's still-angel status. He sat back, holding up his hands in a placating gesture, and the angel obviously calmed down, before he answered; "You don't want Gabriel near you or your brother. I was trying to stop him."

"_What?" _Dean paused, long enough to look around the room, making sure Sam wasn't there – he wasn't sure how Sam would react, given his new revelation on the subject of angels. "You tried to _fight _him? Cas, the last time you took on an Archangel you exploded."

"I made it out okay. Besides, Dean, he doesn't want to kill me, or you. He wants to talk to Sam."

"Well there's not even a snowball's chance of that happening!" Dean growled, standing up with enough violence to send his chair flying backward. "Gabriel isn't getting anywhere near my brother, _ever._"

"Stop, Dean." Cas' eyes flickered over the man's shoulder, making Dean turn to face his brother, the one who'd spoken. "Just stop it, alright? We're not getting anywhere trying to push away the one guy who might be able to help us!" _The Witness would be screaming if it could. _"It's inevitable, isn't it? We can't fight fate, and if I don't solve that damned Tribute," he pointed a shaking finger at the wall, "we're both going to Hell. Just…stop trying to protect me, for once in your life."

"Sammy…"

"No, Dean! I mean it! I can't…damn it; I'm not going to let you rule my life any more. I can't do it…to Hell with your angel and demon crap and the Apocalypse, I'm done. And I'm going to get to Detroit, and I'm going to say 'Yes' to Lucifer. He's wearing me to the prom and I don't want it, alright? _I don't_. But there's no way to avoid it. I dug my own grave so stop trying to jump into it for me!"

"Well well, that doesn't sound like sane talk, does it?" Oh fantastic, Doctor Tactful. Dean practically growled when the guy came back into the room, smiling triumphantly. He held up a tape recorder. "And I think this will be enough that my superior will insist young Sam stay behind. We can't have crazy people wandering the streets now, can we?"

"Wow, you really are just full of crap, aren't you?" The doctor grinned at Dean.

"I might be full of crap, but I'm afraid your brother will have to stay with us, until I deem him able to go into the outside world. We don't need him screaming about Lucifer and angels when people are already so high-strung. Now, Sam, we're going to need to transfer you to the psyche ward."

"No way in hell you're taking my brother anywhere." Dean shifted, standing very directly between Sam and the doctor. This guy _so _didn't sit right with him. It was like that instinctual big-brother-Hunter thing…he didn't know what the guy was and until he found out there was no way in Hell he was letting Sam out of his sight. "Can you give us a few minutes alone, please?"

"Sure thing, but take too long and I'll have to go get security. With you and your brother's obvious co-dependency on each other I think there's more than enough of a case to warrant forcible separation." With that, the doctor turned and breezed out of the room, easy as anything, leaving Dean gaping at his back.

"Are you _fucking _kidding me?" he growled, a little too late, his eyes turning to Sam and then Castiel. At least Sam had the decency to look dumbfounded. Castiel looked…a little amused. "Dude, this is _so _not funny," he growled at the angel.

Castiel stood up, one of those almost-smiles on his face. "I'm sorry, Dean, I thought it was only me." He didn't give enough time for Dean to be confused about his statement before turning utterly serious. "But you could sense it, right? That is not a normal man."

"Yeah, Spencer, I got that." Castiel's brow furrowed and Dean shook his head. "Never mind. Anyway, we have to get the Hell out of dodge before -."

"Can I talk to you, Dean? Alone?" The elder Winchester looked uneasily to his brother, asking almost for permission, before Sam rolled his eyes and nodded. Dean could almost hear the _Where am I gonna go? _echoing around his brother's head. Finally he nodded, following Castiel out of the room. The angel turned to him almost immediately. "This can be a good thing. You don't want Sam in Detroit, yes? If they keep him here then we have yet another layer of security to add. You must sleep, and I cannot be here all the time. If they are convinced that Sam is dangerous enough they will keep him here, or transfer him to a higher-security facility. Either way the Devil will not be able to get to him if we secure the room. A lot of human facilities have the potential to be incredibly secure with some help. I think this is a good idea."

"But didn't you hear him, Cas?_ 'Forcible separation?' _Let them try!"

"Dean, for this to work, you must calm yourself down."

"How can I be calm, Cas? You're basically telling me to let my brother go to a crazy clinic for god knows how long until Archangels or Demons corner him like an animal! We can't let him just stay, and we can't let him go…Damn it, Cas, I hate this. I hate feeling like I've got this leash on Sam and I keep having to tighten it, and he keeps pulling away."

"I -." Cas was cut off suddenly as he gasped, almost doubling over as a pain unlike anything he'd known before crashed through his vessel. _Good God in Heaven that hurt_. The whispers of his brothers were deafening, piercing through his skull until he felt his eardrums would explode.

"Cas? Cas! Talk to me! Come on!"

"Dean…" The angel felt disoriented, clawing desperately at the Hunter's leather jacket. "Something's wrong."

"Wrong how?"

"Sam…"

Dean cursed loudly, wrapping one of Castiel's arms over his shoulders to support him as he hurried back into Sam's room. He didn't know what he expected to find, but he was unsurprised to find the room empty. Sam's duffel bag was gone; there was no trace that he had ever been there. Even the Tribute had been erased; instead three words were pasted on the wall;

'_Good Game, Dean.'_

"Son of a bitch!"

--

The Witness growled, transporting itself through space faster than angel-travel, arriving before Gabriel did at an abandoned warehouse in Detroit. He knew where Gabriel would have taken Sam – the scene of the Winchester's downfall. This was the place Sam was destined to say 'Yes'. Demons crowded the area around the Witness, unconsciously shying from the place it stood though it remained unseen, its presence unknown.

This was cheating. This was plain old cheating, right here. The deal was close to being off. Even now the Witness could feel itself beginning to materialize, just a shimmer on the edge of vision; soon enough it would be able to cross into the corporeal world, stop this madness.

Gabriel appeared as the doctor, an unconscious Sam cradled in his arms. His vessel shimmered out of shape, into the face that the Winchesters had come to recognize as the Trickster. He set Lucifer's vessel down in the middle of a pentagram, an inverse pentagram. The one designed for Devil's Worship. The Witness growled, moving closer, stopped when the sea of Demons began to part. The Witness' entire being trembled at the flood of power emanating from the man who came from the masses. The vessel was wearing thin, frayed and burning away around the edges. Nick. Lucifer's Plan B.

He smiled at Gabriel as the Archangel stepped back, allowing him to approach his chosen vessel. Lucifer knelt, brushing some hair away from Sam's face, his smile triumphant and tender at once. It's weird how, out of all the Archangels, Lucifer was the one who emoted more than the rest of them. He was the softest on the outside. Maybe Hell does that; maybe he's that good of an actor.

Probably the latter.

The Witness stepped forward again. _This isn't how it was meant to go, _it said, catching the attention of both the Archangels. Gabriel merely shook his head, classic carefree expression on his face. _I mean it, Gabriel, Lucifer; you are signing your own death warrants by this course of action. You are cheating. You are defying the will of God. For that, you will die._

"Will be the one to deal the death blow?" Lucifer asked, small smile indicating that he very much doubted the Witness capable of anything. After all, it existed outside of every dimension they inhabited. It wasn't meant to influence, and so it didn't.

The Witness shook its head. _Not I. The Winchesters will stop you. Dean will stop you. _

"Dean is…no longer a threat," Gabriel said, eyes landing on his younger brother with a large smile. "He's too busy to help his brother right now. I made sure of that."

_Cheating! You are cheating!_

"Silence!" At Lucifer's command, the Demons – who had begun to stir with unease, sensing the Witness' presence but unable to detect it – stilled, black eyes all focused on their father and master. Gabriel and the Witness, too, fell silent. Slowly, Lucifer knelt down, touching two fingers to Sam's forehead. The young man gasped awake, sitting up immediately. The Devil was pleased to see that his vessel was physically unharmed, though fear and anger tainted his soul – that was good. The Devil can use that anger. The fear was a minor setback, but able to be dealt with.

Lucifer's gaze landed on Gabriel, who nodded and stepped forward. From above, the sounds of eagles echoed loud and ominous in the deathly-silent warehouse. Sam looked up, cold sweat breaking out on his skin as he began to shiver – the cavalry of Heaven were more terrifying than Hell Hounds, to their victims. Flanked on all sides by Demons, Lucifer and Gabriel polar opposites in the centre, Sam felt dread begin to coil, heavy as lead in his stomach.

"It's been forty days, Sam, and you have yet to satisfy God," Gabriel said, voice deep and serious – very Archangel-y. Sam gulped, eyes wide with disbelief – no, he'd sworn he'd had more time! He had more time…

No, time was up. Of course, Gabriel was lying, but Sam didn't need to know that, did he? With the cries of the eagles circling overhead, the Archangels knew that Sam was trapped, that he felt it anyway. They would have waited the whole forty days, but time was running short. Nick wouldn't have been able to last that long.

"We're in Detroit, Sam. Those, up there?" Lucifer looked upwards, Sam following his gaze. He shivered when he saw a flash of golden feathers, heard a stronger cry from the eagles' razor-sharp beaks. "They're going to get you if you don't fulfill your end of the bargain. You've lost, Sam. Time to pay up."

"If I do, you have to promise me, _promise me, _that you won't hurt Dean. Please. Or Cas. Don't kill them."

Lucifer chuckled, and the sound spread out like waves on water through the rest of the demon horde. "I don't think you're really in a position to bargain, Sam, but since I'm feeling generous…very well. I won't seek out your brother and kill him. Nor Castiel. Is that satisfactory?"

Sam had always prided himself on being able to think through any loophole, find twists in how people thought and spoke and see if there were any holes in their promises, their theories, their lies – after all, he had wanted to become a lawyer. But with the eagles circling overhead, and surrounded by demons, his fear and anger were overpowering him. He was out of time. He was done.

"Fine," he snapped, before directing one last glare at Gabriel. It _was _Sam's fault, but it felt easier to blame someone else than shoulder it on himself.

"Tick tock, Sam," Lucifer said in a sing-song voice.

_God, Dean, I'm so, so sorry…_ He wasn't strong enough. If he had only remembered, had stopped wasting time and had just gotten it together…It angered Sam that he had been coerced into saying 'Yes' through his own pride, his own stupidity. Dean wouldn't have caved this easily…He'd have kept fighting; he'd have gone on until the very end. _Guess I'm not as strong as you are, brother._

_Cheating!_ The Witness was blazing with rage, its being a pillar of flame and salt, and the demons instinctively stepped away, made a little space for it. It began to run forward, feeling with each step the power necessary to cross into the physical realm, put a stop to it, but it knew before it got there that it would be too late.

You can't fight destiny.

"Fine, Lucifer. Yes, alright? Yes."

The Devil smiled. "See, Sammy? That wasn't so hard."

* * *

**Author's Note: BEFORE YOU ALL KILL ME! This story DOES have a happy ending, alright? It does. There is only one more chapter after this, and maybe an epilogue (doubtful), but everything does work out. I'm getting to that stupid point when the plot bunnies aren't leaving me alone, and I'm becoming a huge Sazazel fan right now so I want to write something like that...but anyway, there's just one more chapter and then it's done! Yay!**

**Also, there is a poll on my profile concerning the story Rowan Winchester. If you guys could cast your vote I'd appreciate it.  
**

**This was unbeta'd.**

**Much loves, Review?  
**

**HigherMagic x**


	11. Chapter 11

**Mirror Image**

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**Sitting On Emeralds**

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There once was a man, a man who wanted to make it big sifting precious stones out of the small streams and rivers running from the mountains that lined the beautiful Latin American countryside. The man picked a spot, the spot specific because of a large, rounded, flat stone that became a perfect seat while he did his work.

Days became weeks, weeks became months and, through the natural process of time, months grew into years. Ten of them, to be precise, until he gave up. The river yielded little and the man couldn't afford to spend more of his life trying for precious metals and jewels.

So that no one would repeat his blunder, the man decided that he would destroy the stone. He used to mash up rocks from the riverbed sometimes, to crack open the larger ones to see if anything lay inside. He took his chisel and mallet to the stone. The rock was porous enough to give way after several minutes' work, revealing the largest emerald anyone could ever hope to find.

Right there, ten years that man had been sitting on his own fortune. Only when he gave up was the prize revealed to him. These circumstances occur more often than anyone could ever guess.

--

Dean knew the moment Sam said 'Yes', the exact moment, because he felt like everything, the entire world he was holding on his shoulders suddenly became dead weight, and he collapsed under it, his still-prone angel in his arms.

Bright light illuminated the empty hospital room, deafening shriek of Heaven's whine filling his ears and he was forced to drop Cas to cover them, prevent him suffering damage. Some hope; Castiel himself was the source. Around them people started to panic, to flee the hospital along with all the patients who could move. A few do-gooders tried to save those who could be moved in gurneys, but they hardly managed to make it two steps before their eyes were burned out of their sockets, and their screams of pained joined the shriek of Heaven.

--

_Damn this, they had cheated. They had broken the rules. Now the Witness could interfere. It transported itself to Dean Winchester's side, laying a hand on his shoulder, and that of the angel's vessel, and they were both moved out of harm's way. When they left, the hospital's shaking quieted, calmer with the loss of the fast-falling angel Dean held._

_His ears were shot to hell, his eyes possibly too. Still, he pried open his eyelids just a little; trying to get a look at what had moved them to relative safety. If he'd been thinking a little more clearly, he could have noted that that sort of teleportation was a hell of a lot more pleasant than Angel-mojo._

Lucifer is raised, _the Witness said, and though no mouth moved Dean heard the words, _he has taken your brother. Sam was tricked. Sam is now Lucifer's vessel. I know this must hurt but…I think given time you will know what to do. _It knew what to do. It knew what Dean would eventually do, and when he did everything would be alright again. Everything would work out._

Have faith, Dean_, it said, and then the Witness was gone, as was Castiel's fading grace. The Witness had protected Dean from the harm of the falling angel. Now, in his arms lay a very human and unconscious Castiel._

'_So this is how it happened,' Dean thought to himself, remembering when he'd traveled to the future, seeing Castiel as a human and stoner. 'At least it was quick.'_

--

The angels were gone. They'd fled, just as Dean knew they would. Dean also knew just where to go – he took Castiel and Chuck, took them to Camp Chitaqua. He sought out those people he'd seen, picked up stray travelers, knew not all of them would make it. They didn't. Within a week of Sam saying 'Yes', Croatoan was released on the world and over half of them died. He didn't expect any different. He knew what he'd seen in the future. Very little took him by surprise.

When asked what they needed to do next, he procrastinated. Yes, he'd known that the Colt hadn't worked on the Devil, but people work better and tend not to panic when they have something to focus. By going out on missions, gathering food, supplies, and getting ever-closer to the Colt Dean gave his followers something to hold on to.

Sometimes he had to stoop very, very low. Resort to giving his angel pills, because Castiel didn't know to expect. He couldn't sleep – hell, he didn't know _how _to – and so Dean helped in any way he could. He gave the man painkillers, opiates, anything to keep him to himself and out of the way.

He tortured demons, knowing they wouldn't tell him anything he didn't already know, through either experience or not-caring. They kept taunting him, telling him they knew where the Colt was, but they'd never tell. Dean didn't care – he didn't need it.

They still managed to get to him telling him about Sam, though. That always struck a chord. People were forbidden to say the name around the camp. Newborn babies were never christened with that name. Dean sometimes acted with downright hostility to those with even the middle name of Sam, or anything that reminded him of his brother. The knowledge that his brother was being worn to the Prom – was probably dead, burned out of his own meat suit – never became an old wound.

To some, it would look like Dean was losing hope, making last-ditch efforts to get the Colt and kill the Devil.

But really, he was just waiting.

Five years to the day, he stood in front of himself. He knew what to expect, didn't waste any time. Once the two-thousand-nine version of himself came-to, he knelt down in front of himself.

"_I'm going to shoot the Devil with it."_

"Hello, me. Listen, I've already been through this once in your position. I assure you everything is as you see it. Zachariah's not making this shit up. But you need to listen to me – I'm going to take you out on a mission, and you're going to see things you don't want to see. When you do Zachariah is going to pull you back into your own time. Don't worry – Cas will get you away from him. By the way, tell him you kill him in the future." He smirked a little, watched as the blank incomprehension turned into intent listening on his own face, in his own eyes. He knew he was being believed – how would he know the Angel responsible, after all, were it not for his own experience? "When you get back, you're going to call Sam back to you. Believe me, you're gonna want to. And then…eventually, you'll meet Gabriel. When you do, you light up that son of a bitch. You toast him to Hell."

He found his own voice, clearing his throat. "Gabriel? I don't know a Gabriel. You mean the Archangel?"

"Yes. You will know him, and you _will _kill him. You have to."

"Why?"

"Because he is the reason this," Dean gestured expansively, "has happened at all. He is the reason our brother is gone."

And just like that, steely resolve closed over past-him's eyes. Twenty-fourteen Dean smiled; some things would never change. Dean Winchester would always have an undying loyalty to his younger brother, and if that loyalty extended to killing an Archangel, then bring it on.

--

_In the past, the Winchesters were stuck in an abandoned warehouse. In front of them stood the Trickster in a ring of Holy Oil. Dean demanded Castiel be returned to him, and once he did, and Gabriel revealed his true nature, Dean didn't even hesitate. With barely a look at Sam or Castiel, he drew out the jar or Holy Oil and threw it all over the Archangel. The man didn't even have a chance to scream as the Dean lit a book of matches and threw it at him, and Gabriel went up in flames._

_Sam and Castiel were stunned, the Angel mournful at the loss of his brother, perhaps. But how can one mourn someone they'd never known? At least Dean assumed that; Castiel hadn't known Gabriel. He seemed like a relatively young Angel (though how Dean would know that…) and the Archangel, though he recognized him, didn't seem to share any sort of special relationship._

"_Dean, what the hell?" Sam said, finally finding his voice._

_Dean shrugged, smiling a little. "You'll thank me in two months."_

--

Then things…changed. Dean took Gabriel's Archangel Blade, as that seemed the only thing powerful enough to be able to take Lucifer down. Once his hand closed over the handle he was hit with a crippling wave of power, enough to send him to his knees. Dean cried out as the voices of a thousand angels filled his head, chanting over and over again; _'It is complete, it is done.'_

--

In the year twenty-fourteen, seasons changed, and it became twenty-fifteen. Dean cursed himself, throwing over a large wooden table full of maps and lists of supplies, sending the pages scattering. "Son of a bitch!" he growled, looking up to the sky and hating his own arrogance. Maybe the next Dean…maybe the next cycle would bring Lucifer down. But he looked around them and there was still an Apocalypse.

But on May 2nd, exactly thirty-two years after Sam Winchester was born, something happened. One could describe it as an explosion, but it reality the event was far more epic than that. It was global. It changed the planet, it changed history. Twenty-fifteen Dean fell to the ground surrounded by the Camp's other inhabitants as their memories were changed, replaced. Bright light shone off to one side at Castiel's cabin, and Dean dimly registered that he should go check on him, but he was too dizzy with the wash of new images, memories, smells, sights, tastes…

--

_Dean, poised with an Archangel blade as it slid home, straight through the ribs of Nick, Lucifer's wasting vessel. The Devil stopped his advance; he'd been intent on Sam. Dean couldn't let that happen, couldn't let the demon hordes get their hands on his little brother…again…_

_--_

_Dean and Sam, breathing heavily and standing in the middle of…carnage. The last stand. Castiel stood off to one side, wings splayed out behind him in the bright light of the thunderstorms overhead. Around them were thousands of bodies, demons that had been vaporized with the death of the Archangel. When Lucifer died, he took his minions with him. Sam was bleeding heavily from a head wound, he collapsed and Dean ran to help him._

_--_

_Castiel's lips, hard and demanding against his own, low growls echoing around their motel room. Sam had chosen another one, noticing the mounting closeness between his brother and the angel. Such an understanding brother, Dean would have to thank him later…_

_--_

_Golden eagles, crashing down on them with loud cries. Dean had never seen anything more beautiful._

_--_

When Dean came- to, he hissed at the sudden intensity of sunlight when his eyelids cracked open. A hangover the equivalent of a bunch of elephants banging drums raged through his head. He felt like he had cotton stuffed in his mouth.

He sat up at a groan next to him. Turning to see Sam on one side of him, Castiel on the other, Dean took a moment to get his bearings. All he remembered was…well, memories. New ones that he'd never had, but apparently had…

_Son of a bitch, the bastard actually did it, _he thought to himself, referring, of course, to his past self. For once in his life he'd actually listened. Amazing.

Sam gasped awake next to him, sitting bolt upright and groaning, hands rushing to his head as the sudden bloodrush. Dean, immediately stepping into big brother mode, wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders, holding him steady as he calmed down. "Sammy? Is that you?"

"Who else would it be?" came the irritable, bitchy-little-brother reply. Dean had to smile, though on the inside he was _so _confused. What the hell had just happened?

_Dean. _His head snapped up at his own, and he had to shield his eyes as, out of nowhere appeared five figures, glowing white and blinding. His eyes slowly but surely adjusted, allowing him to gaze safely on…the three Archangels, and the Witness, and one other he didn't recognize. _You were the one to stop it._

One presence flickered, remade itself in the shape of his father, young. By Michael's side Rafael and Gabriel appeared in their chosen forms. The fifth presence kept itself a glowing mass, though Dean thought he could just make out the shape of bright eyes and a slight suggestion of a face. Whenever he tried to peer too closely it seemed the less human it got. Castiel hadn't moved from his side, still lay prone on the floor, and Dean was immediately filled with concern for his friend – and apparently, lover, if the memories had anything to do with it.

"Is he alright?" Dean asked, laying a hand on Castiel's shoulder, to try and shake him awake. He felt amusement from the Archangels.

Young John/Michael smiled. "He's fine, Dean. He's right here," he said gesturing to the still-glowing presence next to him, which shifted away, almost shyly. "He'd forgotten what the true form felt like. He's enjoying it for a while before he goes back," the Archangel continued, as though that were explanation enough.

Dean nodded absently, unable to quite tear his eyes away from the sight of his angel. Castiel looked, well, he looked like an Angel. That's a no-brainer, but Dean was filled with…_awe_. That's what it was. He was truly standing in the presence of Angels. For-real Archangels and the Whatever-the-hell-it-was-called. The Witness.

"You," he muttered, frowning a little as his eyes landed on the smoky, grey shape of the Witness. He tried to focus on where it seemed the eyes would be. "You saved us, back in the hospital. I never got a chance to thank you." The Witness merely bowed its head swiftly. "And _you," _his eyes narrowed, turning to view Gabriel who was smirking, tapping his foot impatiently as though waiting his turn. "You _son of a bitch…"_

"_Dean_," Sam muttered, looking a little nervous of swearing in front of Angels.

"No, I killed you. Why are you here?" Dean growled, getting up, standing in front of Gabriel. It was weird, mixed images in his head confused him – on one hand, he had the memories of, well, himself, of suffering through the man's irritating presence, of knowing he was the one responsible for sending Sam to Hell, to get him to say 'Yes', and on the other hand, his acquaintance with the 'Trickster' ended with his death in a warehouse. "I'm going to kick your ass."

"As much as I'd like to see you try," Gabriel answered, ignoring Sam's swiftly muttered 'Dean, stop it', "I'm afraid I'll have to decline our death match. You've already won once, eh? Besides, where else are Angels meant to go when they die? Lucifer's different, but me? I'm a good son."

"How are _you _a good son?" Dean snapped.

Gabriel smiled, and for the first time it was serene, content, and free of sarcasm and mockery. "How do you think, Dean? I was the Tribute. Now, I have to admit, this plan had so many variables I was scared it wouldn't go through, but thank God I have such trusting brothers." His voice became a little bitter at that, sending a glare Rafael's way for a split second, before returning to Dean. "When you killed me, you came one step closer to stopping the Apocalypse."

"You mean you…_planned _all this?"

"My greatest trick yet, if I do say so myself," Gabriel replied, twirling an imaginary moustache for a second, his smirk widening.

Sam stood, and Dean felt his brother's presence over his shoulder. It was surreal, knowing that this was _Sam, _and not the Devil, and at the same time feeling like this was completely normal. His twin sets of memories would be giving him a headache for a very long time, Dean was sure.

"So what happens now?" Sam murmured, looking toward Michael. "Do we just go back and have everything normal?"

"Were you ever normal?" Michael chuckled. "But, no, that's not exactly it. You have to understand…the times are different now. Because you changed the future, Dean, the world will not be as you see it. Things might be normal to you, Sam, but that's because you have not been around…Demons will still be there. The world needs its best Hunters. Angels have no place here anymore. We will retire to Heaven, to be with our Father, and I can guarantee a place for the both of you here when your work is done. Until then, you are free to be as you are, and continue to be as you would be."

"Wait," Dean said suddenly, holding up a hand. "You mean…it'll be as though this never happened? We won't remember anything? Hell, Angels, Lillith, Ruby…None of it?"

"If you wish it so," Michael replied.

Dean didn't even hesitate. "No, that's not right. I want to remember. I want to be able to look back on this and know that we were worth something, once, that we did something. I don't want you messing with my memories."

Sam paused, before nodding, looking to his brother for a moment before he fixed his gaze on Gabriel, then Michael. "Me too. I want to remember."

"Then it shall be. But no one else will, I have to warn you."

"Fine by me," Sam and Dean said at the same time. Gabriel laughed.

"I love it when they talk in unison," he said in a perfect mimic of Becky, the rabid fangirl, leaving both the boys to shudder. Shared laughter shattered the tense moment, and Michael put a smile on Young John's face.

"Time to go back, boys." He lifted his hands, two fingers outstretched on each, to press onto Dean and Sam's foreheads. Dean jerked his head away just in time.

"What about Cas?" he demanded roughly, unwilling to admit that the reason he was so gruff was the thought of…not having Castiel in his life…it was unthinkable. With the new memories swirling around in his head, of what Castiel was to him now…he couldn't just let that go. The angel meant so much, was as much responsible for saving the world as the Winchesters were…Dean just couldn't leave without at least saying goodbye.

Michael chuckled. "Didn't you hear me, boy? He plans on coming back. He just wants to spend time with his brothers first. I'm sure you can relate."

Dean smiled easily, small apology in his eyes for his outburst. Michael nodded once in understanding before he pressed into Dean's forehead, sending the older Winchester hurtling on his way after his younger brother.

--

There were so many things to say, so many things to check up on, but for now the Winchesters felt like they could relax for a while. Dean popped open a beer for Sam, handing it to his brother before getting one for himself too and taking a long swig, sighing appreciatively.

"I missed beer," he said, Sam cocking his head curiously at the comment but Dean shrugged it off. Sam didn't have memories of the Apocalypse, which Dean was silently glad for – he couldn't imagine Sam knowing that. Dean had tried to protect Sam from knowing about Hell, and he'd failed that, but this…this he could do, since it seemed like no one else remembered it either.

What a relief.

"So…you and Cas?" Sam asked after a moment, and yeah, Dean expected a couple of things but not that. His beer sputtered mid-swallow, leaving him to cough. Sam laughed loudly, and the sound was so beautiful to Dean's ears that he did nothing to stop it, merely glared when Sam was done.

"Yeah…I guess so."

"I'm happy for you."

Dean smiled. "Thanks, Sam."

They clinked their bottles together, Dean laughing for a moment. Sam looked at him. "Sorry. I was thinking of that cheesy-ass sitcom Gabriel stuck us in, and we had to do that." He smiled, taking another swig. "I don't regret killing the son of a bitch, but I'm glad he stopped the Apocalypse."

Sam nodded.

"Hello, Dean, Sam."

Dean smiled. He'd felt Cas coming, though apparently Sam had no such warning. He turned in time for Castiel to step into his line of vision, trademark trench coat hanging off his shoulders, edges fluttering lightly in the breeze. He looked down at Dean, then Sam, and smiled. A full-on, human smile. It was as beautiful as his true presence.

"Good of you to join, Cas," Dean said, handing him a beer, seeing in his new memories that Castiel had taken quite a liking to it. The angel's smile widened and he took a long pull from the bottle, sighing in appreciation.

"I missed beer," he murmured, leaving Dean and Sam to laugh. "What?"

"Nothing…just nothing. I missed you, Cas."

"You too, Dean." Castiel turned his head to look at Sam. "And you, Sam, especially."

The younger Winchester shrugged, not quite understanding the full weight of what Castiel was saying, not having the memory beyond saying 'Yes'. Must have been awful, though. For once, though, Sam was unwilling to know the truth. He was happy with just…accepting that it was over.

The sun was setting on a lush, green valley. Water flowed nearby, wind blew gently through trees…_Trees…_Dean had forgotten what green looked like. It was beautiful. And blue…the blue-turned-red-and-gold of the sky. Breathtaking.

Tomorrow, there would be another demon, another hunt, another monster and something else to rid the world of. The Winchesters lived to protect, to serve, like police on steroids. With an angel by their side the job should be more enjoyable – especially in Dean's case. Maybe eventually they would retire, like Bobby – who was no longer in a wheelchair and had no memory of ever being in one – and relax, Hunt every now and again…Dean knew it was in his blood, he'd never give it up, but Sam could settle down with a nice girl, have two-point-six kids, white picket fence, a dog…Yeah, the future was bright.

"Sam." Castiel broke the silence, handing Sam a folded slip of paper. "This is for you." Sam frowned in confusion for a moment, before his expression relaxed into a smile, right as, on cue, Castiel disappeared with the sound of flapping wings.

"What's it say?" Dean murmured, leaning over to see it.

"It's Sarah's phone number. You know the art-gallery case we worked a few years back." Dean laughed.

"He must think you need to hook up with someone. It's time you got laid again, Sammy." Their joined laughter echoed through the serenity of the evening, and it seemed like they couldn't stop – tears flowed from their eyes, their sides ached from the effort to stop laughing, they were out of breath and flushed red…

_Sometimes you either laugh or you cry._

"Yeah. I'll give her a call sometime."

Dean smiled.

"Tell her 'Hi' from me."

Yes, tomorrow there would be another Hunt, but just for today they had a job well done and a night off. Their first in years. Dean finished his beer with a long draught. "Want another?"

"You read my mind."

* * *

**Author's Note: And THAT is Mirror Image! Yay! IT'S FINISHED! I never thought I'd get it done but I did. I thought since what happened in 5.19…happened, that Gabriel should be one of the good guys. I'm sorry if this went a little anti-climactically but I had planned this sort of thing happening from the beginning, if maybe not how it happened, this was definitely what was going to happen. Hate the writing, not the storyline.**

**This was unbeta'd.**

**Wow, it's actually finished. Yay.**

**Review if you loved, and please do the Rowan Winchester poll if you read it. If you don't read it, READ IT. xD**

**My next story planned is a Sazazel/Wincest/Destiel story, concerning a Demon!Sam who was kidnapped by Azazel the night of the house fire, and he's been raised for the one purpose of this mission; Destroy Dean Winchester. But his loyalties divide and he can't help how he feels, and will stop at nothing to make sure Dean doesn't get hurt by his 'family'. Mixed with lots of angst and slashy lemony goodness. XD I can't wait!**

**Much loves, thank you for sticking with me so far,**

**HigherMagic x**


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